


Baking in Korea

by peaceloveandjocularity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: (chapter 8), Autistic Hawkeye, Autistic Meltdown, Episode: s06e19 What's Up Doc?, Episode: s07e21: C.A.V.E, F/M, Frances AU, Swamp Rats, Unintentional Self Harm, for the discord, pregnancy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity
Summary: What's Up Doc AU because I want more Houlihawk content. That is all.Dedicated to Horaetio for her letting me use her OC (the baby, name to be announced as it comes ;) ) and the rest of the Discord for putting up with me and also validating me.
Relationships: Margaret Houlihan/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 59
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horaetio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/horaetio/gifts).



_“It’s been eight weeks since… the hut.”_

Hawkeye was looking at the rabbit ovaries beneath the magnifying glass. “And the winner is…” 

“Pierce!” Margaret pleaded. 

“Positive.” 

“Positive?” Her voice cracked and held herself up with the lab table. “Positive. Oh god.” Her knees buckled beneath her and Hawk barely caught her before she hit the ground. 

“Hey, hey. Come here,” he coaxed, pulling her onto his lap. “It’ll be alright. You’ll get through this.” 

She curled her body into Hawkeye’s, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Hawk’s hand came up to brush her hair back from her face. His body rocked hers in his arms. He whispered reassurances to her and pressed a soft kiss on her head. 

“Hawkeye, how am I supposed to tell Donald?” she sobbed. 

“I’m sorry, Margaret. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her even farther into his body. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. We can— we can do something about it and no one’ll know.”

Margaret sat up and looked into Hawk’s eyes, wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks. His eyes were so sad. “Do something? You mean— Oh, Hawkeye, I couldn’t do that.” 

Hawkeye slumped against her shoulder, breathing out a relieved chuckle. “Is it bad that I’m relieved?” His hand slid down to her stomach. “We’ll figure it out, right?” 

She pushed his hand off and stood up. “What am I supposed to tell Donald, Pierce? You know, my husband? I’m pregnant and it’s not his!” 

“I—” 

“I’m no better than him, now, you know that? And I was dumb enough to get knocked up in the process!” She slammed her hand against the wall. “Fuck! What am I going to do? I’m going to be discharged! Sent home! I’ll never be a major again. And Donald, I’m going to have to divorce him. Not that this wasn’t an eventuality anyway. We haven’t been good for a while. And then the letters. This is just— so terribly timed,” she said, sliding down to the floor. “Where do I even start?” 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” Hawk admitted. “I’ll help you hide it, if you want. At least for as long as we can.” 

“How?” 

Hawk stared at his hands and began to rock in his chair. “Well, ten weeks, right? You’ll start showing soon. We’ll get you some cardigans, I’ve got some in the Swamp. Autumn is coming, so no one’s going to think about it too much. Some baggy sweaters for a while.” 

“Do you actually think that’ll work?” 

“Well, it can’t hurt,” Hawk said, standing up. He held his hand out to her and pulled her to a stand. “Where are we starting? Where do we go from here?” 

Margaret pulled Hawkeye down into a kiss. Her hand curled around the back of his head and pulled him closer. Her fingers scraped at his scalp as she caressed his hair. 

Hawk pulled back with a groan. “Margaret, I can’t take advantage of you like this. You’re feeling emotional. It’s been an emotional few days.” 

“I have to divorce Donald,” she said, easing him back into a kiss. 

“That’s not the issue, Margaret. You’re upset. I’m not going to take advantage of that.” 

She eased his hands down to her hips. “C’mon, Pierce. I’m not asking for sex. I just— Please, Hawkeye. I need to feel close to someone, to you. Just hold me.” 

He pulled her in his arms and held her close, rocking her body in his arms. “I’ll hold you as long as you want me to, Margaret.” 

“I’m not telling anyone until I have to.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to, but uh, what about Beej?” 

Margaret pulled back. “What about him?”

“Can I… talk to him about it? I mean, assuming, uh— assuming you want me involved. Assuming I—this is a product of the hut.” He brushed back a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I know it was meant to be a one-time we’re-going-to-die sex, but I— I’m stepping up. If you want me to.” 

Margaret pulled him down to her lips aggressively. “Absolutely.” 

“Margaret,” he warned.

“Damn it, I know. Hawkeye,” she whined. The door pressed open to the lab and Margaret pushed Hawkeye back into the chair. “Thank you, Dr Pierce. You can pass on the information,” she said, smoothing out her hair. “Good afternoon, Captain.” She walked out the door, closing it behind her. 

“What was that all about?” BJ asked, jerking his thumb towards the door. Hawk stared at the closed door until BJ rapped his knuckles on his forehead. “Hey, anyone home?” 

“Margaret’s pregnant. It’s mine,” he said. “Everything’s a mess.” He set his head into his hands and ran them down his face. He sat back and turned the chair back and forth. “What are we supposed to do? She said she’s going to divorce Donald but how long is that going to take? And what am I supposed to do in the mean time? I—” 

“Do you want to marry her? Make an honest woman out of her?” 

“I’d never thought about it. It was just—we only— Damn it, I can’t think straight! How could this happen?” His hand reached up to tug at his hair. “How could this happen, Beej?” 

“Uh, well. When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much…”

Hawk whined as he twisted his hair around his fingers. “BJ.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hawk. I really don’t.” His hand grabbed Hawk’s and gently untangled his hair from his fingers. “Stop that, you’re hurting yourself,” he coaxed. “Hawkeye, why don’t you rock instead? Tangle your fingers together. C’mon stop with the hair pulling.” Hawkeye’s hands came down from his hair and tangled up in the hem of his jacket. “How’s Margaret feeling?” 

“Much the same, I think.” His hands fussed at a tear in his shirt. “Except she was very keen on ravishing me.” 

“And you weren’t?” 

“I told her no. Isn’t that backwards? Not that I don’t want to, but I feel like I’d be taking advantage of her after she got some pretty intense news. I care for her, I really do. I just— aren’t we too different?” 

“Well, not entirely. Don’t worry about that part Hawk. Worry about you, and her, and your feelings for each other. Assuming you’ve got feelings for her, that, is. Why don’t you go find her, talk to her somewhere you won’t be interrupted, and figure out what you’re going to do, before she’s discharged.”

Hawk’s hands tightened around his shirt. “We’re going to hide it as long as possible. More sweaters, cardigans, everything. Maybe Charles’s clothes if we have to.” 

“Well, it’s already starting to get cooler out. I think today only got to 62˚. But Hawk, you can only keep her covered up for so long before she’s going to start to show anyway.” Hawk’s hand broke from his shirt and came back up to wrap his fingers through his hair. “Stop that,” BJ admonished. “Just go talk to her if you’re all worked up. That’ll calm your mind more than anything.” 

Hawk stood up and shucked off his lab coat. “Can you take care of that for me?” He gestured to the specimen bowl on the table. 

“Uh…” He tilted the bowl towards himself to get a better look. 

“It’s hard doing an oophorectomy on a rabbit, but I managed,” he said, halfway out the door. “Thanks, Beej.” 

BJ picked up the magnifying glass as Hawk ran out the door. 

Hawk jogged to Margaret’s tent, knocking on the door. “Margaret, are you in there?” No response. “Margaret?” He pushed the door open to her tent and found it empty. His fingernails raked against the back of his neck as he pushed the door closed behind him. Mess tent? He looked through the mesh screening. Lots of nurses, but not the one he was looking for. He stood in the middle of the compound and looked around. There were enough buildings here, where could she be? He meandered back towards the hospital and walked into Radar’s office. 

“I don’t care anymore, Donald!” She pressed her fingers to her lips as he walked in. “No, I want a divorce, completely uncontested. You give me my portion of the bank account and we’ll never have to speak again.” She motioned Hawk over and leaned her head on his side. “Donald, you sent me a letter meant for another woman whom you’ve had dalliances with. I’ve had a nurse come through here from Tokyo talking about Donald, pervert who has a thing for fingernails. She might not have gotten your last name, but I figured it out pretty easily after that. Just have your lawyer draw up the papers, sign them, give me my money, and leave me the hell alone!” She slammed the phone back into its cradle. “I don’t think he’s going to agree so easily.” She buried her head in her arms crossed on the desk. “Did you tell BJ?” 

“Yeah.” 

Margaret picked her head up from her arms and looked at Hawkeye. “You okay?” She looked at the red mark across his neck, his red-rimmed eyes, the wild displacement of the hair in front of his eyes. The fingers still tangling in hair at the nape of his neck. “Oh, come here. Come here.” He knelt on the floor beside her. “What brought this on? Was it, uh— everything?” 

Hawkeye nodded. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I was talking to BJ and there’s just— Too many unanswered questions. About, well about everything. And right now it’s all hanging on Donald Dick.” 

Margaret snorted. “It’s mostly in his personality.” Her eyes bolted open as she realized what she said at Hawkeye’s shaky laugh. Tears had started coming from his eyes, but at least he was laughing. “Can you give me your hands?” 

Hawk handed over his free hand, pressing his back against Radar’s desk. His hand was still fisted in his hair. 

“How about the other one?” She frowned as Hawk shook his head. “What do you want to talk about then? It can be anything, but if it’s going to be about this then we should go to my tent.” 

“So, beautiful day out there, huh?” 

Margaret laughed. “A little windy for my tastes, but it’s not too cold yet.” 

Cold. Sweaters. Hiding. 

“Uh, yeah,” Hawk said, tightening his fingers. “It’s sunny though. In Maine, I bet the maple trees are starting to turn. They turn the most brilliant colors, you know. Reds and oranges, yellows. Apple trees are almost ready for picking. Dad said he thinks it’s going to be a good year for apples. I was drafted over two years ago. I didn’t get to see the apple trees that year. Even when I was in Boston, I’d go home at least once in the fall so I could help my dad prepare for winter. The local people would help him with his firewood and everything but I made sure he saved the leaf raking for me. I’d rake up all the leaves into a pile and we’d lay on them. We don’t have leaves here to rake.” His fingers would start to loosen from his hair.

“What else would you do? Maine sounds beautiful.” 

“Oh it is. We had a back lawn full of maples, woods full of evergreens and apple trees, and then just on the other side of town, the beach. Tommy and me, we’d roam the town for hours as kids. We’d head over to the beach and look for crabs. He got pinched by one once. That was funny. He started screaming and hollering and I didn’t know what had happened, but he stood up and there was a red welt on the back of his leg. I miss Tommy,” he whispered. “We didn’t see much of each other after I left for school. Just when he was here.” His hand started to curl hair around his fingers but this time he was playing with it more than pulling. 

“I’d love to go see Maine.” Her free hand came to rest on her waistline as she watched Hawk’s fingers play with his hair. “You’ll just have to take me some day,” she posited.

“Yeah? You’d like to go?” 

“Well Crabapple Cove seems as good a place to raise a child as any,” she said, carefully watching his reaction. 

A soft smile grew on his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I grew up a regular army brat, I don’t really have a home to go back to. I bet I could make one in Maine just as easily as I could anywhere else. Maybe easier, since we still have your dad there.” 

Hawk’s hand left his hair entirely and moved to grab hers. “Maybe you’d better divorce your husband before propositioning me, Margaret. And I’ll only allow the most extravagant proposal you’ve ever seen.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Wanna head back to my tent and we can talk some more so Corporal O'Reilly stops eavesdropping through the door?” 

Radar’s head dropped away from the window as he walked in. “Hello, sirs, I wasn’t listening long, honest. Just heard Captain Pierce talking about Maine, sir.” He held his rabbit in his hands. “Just came in to feed Fluffy. I want to make sure she’s feeling good after her surgery.”

“Well, don’t let us keep you, Corporal. Pierce,” she said, in lieu of an order. He stood up, watching Margaret as she waited by the door for him. 

“She’s feeling okay?” Hawkeye asked, looking at the rabbit. 

“Oh, sure, Captain. She’s just getting a little extra since she was such a brave girl.” He pulled a leaf of lettuce from his pocket. “I just wanted to hold her for a bit, that’s all.” Hawkeye nodded and walked to the door to follow Margaret. 

“Radar,” she said making him look up from his rabbit. “Thank you. I appreciate what you and Fluffy did for me— sacrificing her ovaries so that I could find out.” 

“Oh, are you not—?”

“It’s all turning out to be just fine,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.” She walked out the door and headed to her tent. 

Hawkeye staying for a minute to watch Fluffy nibble at the lettuce. “She’s really feeling fine? No fever or anything?” 

“No, sir, she’s doing just fine,” he said, stroking her back. “Is Major Houlihan really not— y’know?” 

“Margaret’s just fine, Radar. Don’t you worry. Other than the usual husband trouble, she’s right as rain.” Hawkeye rustled his cap on his head, causing Radar to grumble. “If there’s any problems with Fluffy, let me know, alright?” 

“Hey, what were you and Major Houlihan talking about?” 

Hawkeye sighed. “I just got stressed and too far in my own mind and she talked me off the edge. Everything’s okay, Radar. Honest.” 

Radar looked at Hawk’s disheveled hair and the red mark, still not completely faded, on his neck. “Yeah, okay. Hope you’re feeling better now.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he admitted. “Margaret had something she wanted to talk about though, so I’d better— I’d better go.” 

Radar looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah, okay, sir. See you later.” 

Hawkeye pushed out the door into the compound. The sun was shining, the breeze was a bit cool. The compound was surprisingly empty as he strolled over to Margaret’s tent. His fingers rapped against the door, hoping that she’d answer this time. 

“Come in,” she called. Hawkeye pushed into the door and pressed it closed behind him, leaning against it. “Come on in here,” she said. She was laying on her bed staring at the canvas ceiling. “Sit.” He came in and sat on the chair at her desk. “You know, you’ve suddenly become a lot less cocky since you found out. Are you afraid of me now?” 

“Not of you, no.” 

“Then come sit with me.” She moved over on her bed and tapped the mattress. “Come on, I don’t bite too hard.”

“I think some of your nurses would beg to differ,” he joked. “I’ve seen them come running out of here fuming.” 

“Well I’m a bit of a hard ass sometimes, I’ll admit that.” 

Hawk stripped off his boots and climbed on the bed, curling up on his side. “Sometimes, yeah that’s it.” She slapped his hip and pulled him closer to her. “Margaret, you know my thing about married women.” 

“I’m currently separated from my husband. We’re getting a divorce. What’s that do to your morals?” 

“Blurs the line a bit, I have to admit. But Margaret, are you sure this isn’t just because you’re pregnant and it’s mine? I’m not one to complain, but I don’t think I can sleep with you in good conscious knowing how I feel about you and not knowing how you feel about me.” 

“You’ll sleep with my entire nursing staff, but here you draw the line?!” She sat up in bed and glared at him. 

“Yeah, Margaret, because I don’t feel about them the way I do with you! And I didn’t sleep with all of them. I did however strike out with all of them at least once.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Uh, I— nothing. It’s nothing.” 

“You have feelings for me,” she said, poking his side. 

“I never said that,” he said, feigning indifference. 

“Yes you did! You do have feelings for me!” She laid back on the bed, this time facing him. “Say it.” 

“Well, yeah Margaret, who wouldn’t? You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, you’ve got a body that could kill and legs for days—” She gave him a glare. “Look Margaret, you’ve got a bit of an attitude problem. And for a year and a half, a Frank problem. And no one wanted to deal with that. But I’m no quitter,” he said with a wink. 

“So you’re saying you would have tried a chance with me if you’d gotten one?” 

“Well, yeah. But you went from Frank to Donald without hardly a heartbeat between them.” He turned to lay on his back. “And now I suppose you’re jumping from Donald to me.” 

Margaret moved over and laid on his chest, now solemn. “You won’t be a mistake like them though, right? I mean, you’re nothing like them.” 

“I try to be the exact opposite,” Hawk said. “I want no part of the army, but they’ve seem to got a crush on me.”

“Not sure why,” Margaret said, closing her eyes. Her fingers moved to trail along his sternum. “You’re a bit of a menace.” 

“If I’m only a bit of a menace, then I’m not sure I’m doing my job.” His voice was getting heavy as he grew tired. Her finger trailing up and down his chest was soft and comforting, and the weight of her head on his chest was grounding. “Margaret, if you want to talk, you’re going to have to stop doing that. I’m going to fall asleep here.” 

“Then fall asleep,” she said, voice soft. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“Hmm. Well I hope so, it is your tent.” 

_____

Hawkeye was woken up by the sound of someone knocking on the tent door. 

“Major Houlihan, you in there?” Radar. 

Hawkeye looked at Margaret, asleep on his chest. He closed his eyes and ignored it, already half asleep. Her body curled easily against his. She was warm and her hair smelled so good. His fingers twirled around a lock of her hair. 

Then the door opened. “Oh, sorry Sirs.”

“Shh, what is it Radar? What time is it?” 

“1800 hours, sir. Sir, it’s time for Major Houlihan’s shift in post-op. I can find someone else to do it thought if she’s not feeling well.” Radar looked pointedly at her stomach. 

Hawkeye stared at him, but Margaret sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Thank you, Corporal, I’ll be over presently. Dismissed.” Radar nodded and backed out of the tent, watching them closely until the door closed. 

“You realize that he’s probably already caught on, right? At least that he suspects something.” 

“Yeah,” Margaret said, stretching. 

“And that if you and I are suddenly close, the camp is going to suspect something’s up?” Margaret look at him like she hadn’t thought of that before. “You’re not exactly the best at expressing your dislike for my penchant for loathing authority.” 

“I just wish you would be more army! You’re an officer for crying out loud.” 

“I’m an officer by profession, not by choice, Margaret. And you have to remember, I was drafted, forced to come here.” 

She climbed over him and crossed the floor to her closet. “I know that.” 

“Authority is your kink, not mine. Well— I’ll take that one back. Military authority is not mine.” 

Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him as she pulled a sweatshirt on. “We’ll talk more about that later. I have to get to post-op. You going to be here when I get back?” 

“No, I’m going to go to the mess tent and think about how much I wish I wasn’t eating mess food. I’ll see you in the morning, though.” 

“Wide awake and ready for reveille?” She grinned.

“I’ll be at reveille.”

“In uniform and at attention?”

“Well, I’ll be at reveille,” he said, bending over to grab his boots. A grin spread across his face. He looked up at Margaret, her hands on her hips, and smirked. “BJ’ll push me there, it’ll be great. You can sit in my lap and everything. Then we’ll come back to your place and—”

“Yeah, yeah. Get out, you menace. I’ve got post-op tonight. I’ll see you in the morning, definitely. If not earlier.” Her hand reached to cup his face gently as she walked out. 

Hawk pulled on his boots and tucked the laces in. He walked to the mess tent and walked through the line, taking whatever slop Igor dumped on his tray. He walked to the table with some of the other officers and sat down besides BJ. 

“Evening, all.”

“How’s Margaret doing, Pierce?” Colonel Potter asked.

“She’s good,” he smiled, thinking of her head on his chest. “She’s great. Perfect, actually.” 

“Good. Glad to hear it. I’d like to see you in my office after dinner, capisce?” 

Hawkeye brought a spoonful of brown mush to his nose, smelling it. “Well it seems as though that’ll be sooner rather than later,” he said, eating it. “Hmm, it tastes just as bad as it smells.” He waited for the colonel to stand up and leave before he looked at the guys sitting at the table. “What?” 

“What’s up with you? Your face is flushed and you’re smiling,” Klinger said. “So what gives? And what’s it got to do with Major Houlihan?” 

“It’s just a good day, aren’t I allowed to smile?” Hawk asked defensively. 

“It is a beautiful day out there, Hawkeye. I’m inclined to agree. If I was back home, my sister and I would be picking apples. Our mother always made the best apple foods you can imagine; jellies and applesauce to store in the cellar, and then she’d slice and freeze apples so that she could make all sorts of cobblers and pies all year round. My father would make cider and let us drink it while it was still warm.” 

“You know, Father, I was just talking about Maine this morning, imagining all the leaves I’d have to rake from my father’s lawn. What I wouldn’t give to help dad pick apples for breakfast.” He grabbed another few bites from his tray. “It sure beats whatever this is. Lukewarm chicken feed perhaps.” Hawk yawned.

“I think it’s pig slop,” BJ remarked. “Tired?”

“No, just waking up,” he admitted. “I haven’t slept that well in a long time.” 

BJ smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. “Well I’m glad a little nap helped.” 

Hawkeye finished off the food— if you could call it that— and pushed his tray out in front of him. “I wonder what Colonel Potter wants talk about. I’d better go over there before he sicks Radar on me.” He stood up and set a hand on BJ’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in the Swamp.” 

“It’s a date,” he said, smiling warmly. 

Hawk walked to the office and draped himself in the chair across from Colonel Potter. “You wanted to speak to me, Colonel?” 

“How’s Margaret?” 

“She’s good. She’s— We think it’s probably just some gallbladder troubles.” He was lying through his teeth but he hoped the colonel couldn’t tell. “She’ll probably be okay in a few days.” 

“Good, good,” Potter said. “She’s really staying here?” 

Hawk nodded. “Well until she gets her points, but who knows? Knowing Margaret, she’ll enlist again.” 

“Yeah, that seems just like her. Alright, Pierce, I just wanted to make sure Margaret was alright. Dismissed.” Hawk stood up and moved to the door. “Pierce?” 

“Colonel,” he said, turning around. 

“Is something happening between you and Margaret? Not that it’s my business of course, I’m just wondering— You’re both beyond happy today. I just want you to know that whatever’s going on with you two, it should be kept in mind that Margaret’s married, Pierce. And I don’t want whatever’s happening, if it stops happening, to affect how we all work, understood?” 

“Of course,” Hawk said. “We’re just getting along better with Frank gone, that’s all.” He pushed through the door. “Hi Radar, just stopping in for a little eavesdropping this evening?” The door swung closed behind him. 

“I know you’re lying about the Major, Hawkeye. I wanna help. How can I help?” He asked, barely above a whisper. 

Hawk set a hand on Radar’s shoulder. “I knew we wouldn’t fool you for too long. I’ll let Margaret know that she can come to you. No requisitions though, nothing that’ll leave a paper trail, okay?” 

Radar nodded. “And it’s yours, huh? Gee, Hawkeye. You’re gonna be a daddy.” 

Hawk’s face dropped. “Holy shit,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Yeah, I’m gonna— Oh man, I’m gonna be a dad.” Radar pushed his chair in place for Hawkeye to sink into. “Do I even know how to be a dad?” 

“Well I don’t think any dad knows how to be a dad until they have to be one, sir.” 

Hawk’s fingers came to tangle up in his hair. “You think so?” 

“No, I know so, sir. I think you’ll be a great dad. After all you and Trap always looked out for me and you and BJ all take care of me even when you don’t gotta. I think that’s what dads do.” 

“You’re a good boy, Radar,” he said as his fingers loosened their grip on his hair. “Thank you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly just soft smut bc Margaret deserves love.

It took four weeks for Margaret to stop wearing her t-shirts. Hawkeye had walked in her tent one day and his gaze had immediately been drawn to her midsection. His eyes had grown wide and she had immediately grown self conscious, drawing her arms around herself. 

“Is it really that noticeable?” 

“No, no, of course not,” Hawk said staring. “It’s just ‘cause I know it’s there.” 

She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her body from side to side. She whined as she stared at herself, untucking her shirt. “How am I supposed to shower?” 

Hawkeye stepped in and locked the hook behind him. “Well, generally you get in the water, get wet, soap up, rinse off.” 

“I mean like this!” She ripped the t-shirt off and threw it at the bed, sinking down onto her mattress. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Hawk sat next to her. “Shower at 3 am?” He pushed her bra strap onto her shoulder and tightened it slightly. 

“No the other girls do that. They all pick whenever they want to shower. There’s no structure! No schedule! They all just walk around all willy nilly and decide to shower whenever they want. Plus there’s a hole in the side that Corporal O’Reilly uses as his own personal peep show!” 

“Well Radar knows; he would give you your space.” 

“You told him?!” 

Hawkeye pushed away and held his hands in front of himself defensively. “No, he just…knew. I didn’t tell him anything! Listen, me and Beej can stand guard in front of the mens’ showers and you can shower there. And if one of us can’t, Radar can stall whoever wants to get in.” 

“I’m pretty sure anyone could get past him if they wanted,” she said, trying to blink away tears. 

A stray tear rolled down her cheek and Hawkeye sat up and thumbed it away. “Hey, I know this isn’t what you want. I’m sorry. I’m trying my best, I really am.” 

She sighed. “I know, Pierce. It’s not you, I promise. I just— I don’t want to be in this war anymore. It’s been two years. I’m so tired.” 

“I know. We’ll get out soon, right? We have to. We’ll get enough points and we’ll head back to Maine and we’ll have a baby and it’ll all be okay. We’ll get married in between there somewhere and—” 

“You want to marry me?” 

Hawk looked at her wide eyed. “I— Well I, uh—”

“Even after everything with Donald?” 

Hawk grabbed her hands and kissed them. “Of course. It’s not your fault you’ve had such terrible taste in men before me.” 

Margaret pushed him back on the bunk and straddled his hips, pressing a rough kiss to his lips. “Fuck me, Hawkeye.” She ground her hips against him, relishing the way his eyes rolled a bit. 

“No, Margaret,” he whined, sitting up. “I’m not going to fuck you.” 

She sat up, resting on his thighs. “Why not? It’s been a month since we’ve found out. You’ve refused to touch me once!” 

Hawkeye kicked his shoes off, suddenly glad he’d been too lazy to tie them. He wrapped his leg around hers and used it to flip them over and press her into the mattress. “You’ve never been loved, have you?” he asked. “It’s all about schedule and the pleasure of whatever man you’re with, isn’t it? Let me love you Margaret. Please. Let me make you feel good.” He pressed soft kisses to her hands, once more clasped in his. “Let me show you how I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you.” 

A tear trickled from Margaret’s eye. “You love me?” 

Hawk pressed a kiss just below her ear. “You’re easy to love when you bring down those walls; when you let people in. I’m just sorry it took getting you pregnant for you to let me in.” He unclasped one of his hands from hers and traced the tear on her cheek. “You’re beautiful, Margaret. Don’t forget that.” 

“I don’t really feel it,” she whispered. 

“Would I lie to you?” he asked, pressing small kisses down her neck. 

“Yes.”

“About this?” His hand pressed beneath her to unhook her bra clasp. She arched her back to give him more room and shook her head. “No,” he confirmed, “I wouldn’t. I’d never lie to you about something as important as that, and I’m sorry you don’t know that.” 

“You’ve apologized a lot lately for things that aren’t your fault, you know.” 

“I got you pregnant, I made it unclear that you’re absolutely stunning… Seems to me those are my shortcomings,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her sternum. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” His fingers finally unclasped the bra and he pulled his hand loose from underneath her. He took his free hand and eased the strap down one side, then the other. “I’ll have to let go of your hand to get this off,” he said. 

“I’ll survive,” she said as she released his fingers. Her breath stuttered as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, his teeth biting into the skin around them. “Hawkeye,” she whimpered, pulling at his hair. 

He pulled back and tossed the bra to the mattress beside them. “You’re beautiful, Margaret,” he said, his eyes raking over her body. His hands went to her stomach and rubbed her growing form. “Gorgeous,” he murmured. 

“Hawkeye.” Her face flushed and turned her face away from him. 

“Hey.” He eased her face to look back at him but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You’re beautiful. Gaining some baby weight isn’t going to change that. That’s all baby. But even if it wasn’t, you’d still be beautiful.” His hands trailed down to the button on her pants. “You can bow out now, if you want. Say stop whenever you change your mind and I’ll stop.” He watched her face, waiting for her eyes to betray her but he only saw heady lust. 

“Don’t stop.” Her arms reached over her head and he groaned at how it elongated her body. 

His fingers made quick work of her buttons and eased the zipper down with fervor. She lifted her hips for him and he eased the pants off, tossing them to the floor, her socks following suit. He slipped his finger beneath the waistline of her underwear, pulling it away from her skin a bit. “A matching set all for me?” 

“They’re new,” she said. She watched the way his eyes raked over her body and she felt like she was on display. “It’s my first time wearing them.” 

“That also means that it’s the first time someone gets to take off of you. I’m glad I got to see them.” He eased the waistband down and pressed a kiss right where he had moved it from. A little more and he kissed her hip. He pulled the underwear down her legs— “Gorgeous”— and eased them off her feet and tossed them on the bed behind him. He pulled her leg up and eased onto his shoulder, pressing soft kisses against the inside of her ankle. “You really are beautiful, Margaret. Especially so soft and ready for me. So alluring.” 

“Keep talking like that and I might believe you,” she said. Her voice was getting soft and breathy as he nipped and kissed down the length of her leg, settling his face between her thighs. 

His fingers teased around her folds as he laid there, his finger every so often pressing against her dripping cunt. “You’re so wet for me, Margaret.” 

She nodded her head dazedly. “Stop teasing,” she whined. 

“Alright, but you asked for it,” he said. His fingers spread her lips and his tongue pressed flat against her. 

“Holy shit, Hawkeye.” She bit down on the knuckles on one hand to keep quiet, the other hand pressed his head against her. He couldn’t really breathe but that was fine with him. Her fingers played with his hair as his tongue traced around her. His tongue pressed against her clit and she jumped, her hips pressing back down against him. “Oh my god, Hawk. Do that again.” 

He eased his fingers in her and began to fuck her as his tongue danced across her clit. He could hear her breathing change as his teeth nipped at her bud. His tongue began to circled her clit faster, his tongue swiping back and forth. Her body was tight as a string until her hips pressed up against him one more time. A muffled whimper came from her as she bit down, hard, on her knuckles. Hawkeye eased his fingers out of her but used his tongue to clean her up. 

“Oh god, Hawkeye. That was so good.” 

“That was only the beginning,” he said, leaning back.

“That’s better than a lot of sex I’ve had.” 

Hawk frowned at that, but Margaret didn’t see. Sex was supposed to be fun and enjoyable. How long had it been less than that for her? “I’ll add that into our normal repertoire, then,” he joked. “Sex is no fun if your partner isn’t enjoying it.” 

“Please do,” she said, opening her eyes to look at him. “You’re beautiful too.” 

He grabbed her discarded t shirt and pulled it out from underneath her. “You’re just saying that because I’m covered in you right now.” He went to wipe his face and she stopped him, pulling his face to hers. Her tongue darted out and licked his lips and his eyelids drooped a bit. She tasted herself all over him and cleaned him up, only letting him wipe his face when he was done. 

“You’re still beautiful,” she said, pressing kisses to his neck. “And you taste good too.” She bit into his neck and he moaned, his head rolling to give her better access. 

“This is supposed to be me making you feel good, Margaret.” 

“And you did, my turn now.” She pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the bed. Her hands traced across his chest.

“Not as muscular as you’re used to, I’m sure.” 

“Can you still pick me up?” She asked, and he nodded. “Then that’s all that matters.” She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. Her fingers moved down to his pants and unbuttoned them before Hawk even knew what was happening. “Pants off.” 

He stood up and pushed his pants down to the floor, slipped his socks off, and crawled back onto the bed. 

Margaret shot him a look. “You could have taken your underwear off too, you know.” 

“Well, someone’s being bossy.” 

“Never mind,” she said, “I’ll do it.” She pushed her hands beneath his waistband and wrapped her hand around his cock. As she stroked him her other hand pushed his underwear down over his hips. His hips pushed towards her as she stroked him. “Stop it, you can wait.” Her hand released him and he whined as she pulled his underwear off the rest of the way. “Do you want top or do you want me on top?” 

“I’ll be on top. I’m supposed to be making you feel good, Margaret.” 

“You already did.” 

He eased her down to the mattress. “Well I’ll admit I’m being a bit selfish and getting my own pleasure this time too.” Hawkeye set his hands back on Margaret’s thighs. “Do you have a condom?” 

“I’m pretty sure I can’t get pregnant again, Hawkeye.” 

His cheeks flushed. “I can still wear one if you want me to.” 

“Do you need to?” He shook his head. “Then you don’t need to.” 

He rest his hands on her hips, his thumbs spanning around to rest on her stomach. He eased his cock in with one hand, returning it to her hip as soon as the head entered her. He watched Margaret’s face as she stretched around him. His thrusts were gentle as he started. Her eyes never left his. “What are you thinking about?” 

“How good you feel. How sweet you are. How good you feel.” 

They weren’t having sex for the pleasure anymore, but rather for the closeness. Hawk pressed gentle kisses wherever he could reach. Her lips, her face, her neck, her arms as they wrapped around him, her breasts. Margaret returned his kisses whenever he lulled in kissing her. His hips stuttered against hers and she pulled his forehead down against hers. 

“You gonna finish?” He nodded, his eyes focusing on hers. “You gonna fill me up, Hawkeye?” 

He nodded as his hips took one more stuttered thrust as he stilled inside her. He grunted as he came, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before he eased out of her and dropped to the bed beside her. He nuzzled his nose in her hair and he wrapped her in his arms. 

They laid there in comfortable silence until Margaret looked over to see tear tracks running down Hawkeye’s cheeks. “Hawkeye, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he said, curling back into her. “Absolutely nothing.” She wiped at the tear tracks on his face. “Oh, that.” 

“Yeah, that.” 

“I’m just thinking about how much I love you.” Margaret’s heart soared. “But I don’t want you to say it unless you really feel it.” 

“I’ll say it some day, I promise,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

“I know, Margaret.” 

The sound of a badly-played bugle rang through the compound. “Hawkeye, we’re late for reveille.”

“Yep,” he mumbled against her pillow. 

“And maybe we should get up and out there.” 

“Feel free,” he said, tightening his arms around her. 

Margaret rolled her eyes and turned around in Hawkeye’s arms, pressing her back to his chest. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“Yep.” 

“A menace,” she said. “I’ll see you when I wake up.” She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed as she fell asleep. 

Hawkeye watched her sleeping. Her face looked so much younger, so much less serious, less worried. He grabbed her t shirt from where it had been tossed and cleaned themselves up before tossing it in her laundry basket. He pulled the blanket out from under Margaret and covered her up before grabbing his clothes and redressing himself. He laid on the bed beside her, this time on top of the blanket. His body curled around hers on the mattress, his feet nearly hanging off the bed. 

Someone knocked on the door. “Major Houlihan, sir? Are you okay?” 

Hawkeye went over to the door and unlocked it, opening it slightly. “She’s alright Radar. It’s just been a rough morning.” 

“Is it the baby?’ he whispered. 

Hawkeye looked over at Margaret asleep on the bed. “Yeah. You think you can find her a few larger t shirts? Just a size up or so. Or help me get some sweaters from Zale later.” Radar nodded. “You’re a good kid, Radar. Don’t ever forget that.” 

“She’s really okay, sir?” 

“It’s been an exhausting morning, Radar. She’s in here sleeping it off. You and I can go get her the clothes and that’ll help when she wakes up.” 

“Oh,” Radar said, “I understand.” 

Hawkeye turned and grabbed his boots and pressed a kiss to Margaret’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” He pulled on his boots and closed the door gently behind him. “Alright, C’mon Radar. Let me grab my sweater for her just in case she wakes up before we’re back.” He walked to the Swamp where BJ and Charles just stared at him as he dug through his footlocker. “Rough morning, Pierce? Couldn’t even make it to reveille this morning. Margaret either. How peculiar.” 

“She’s not feeling well,” he said, brushing Charles off with ease. “I think she’s coming down with something. Either that or her gallbladder’s acting up again. I’m on my way to tell Potter now.” He pulled out his gray sweater. Perfect. “I’m bringing my sweater over to her. Got any messages?” 

“I’ll stop by later to check on her,” BJ said. “See how she’s feeling.” BJ had grown proficient in going along with Hawk’s lies. 

“I’ll let her know. I’ll see you later.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Charles said sarcastically from his bunk. 

Hawk snuck into Margaret’s tent and laid the sweater over her like a blanket, pressing another kiss to her cheek before sneaking back out again. “Alright, Radar. Off to the supply tent.” 

The pair searched the supply tent for clothing, tearing into boxes and restocking others. “What size are we looking for, sir?” 

“A medium, I think. She’d be swimming in a large and that would make it obvious.” He pulled out a box labelled ‘thermometers’ and opened it up, finding a stack of t-shirts. “I found t-shirts, think you can keep looking for sweaters?” He pulled out a stack of t-shirts and rooted through them for mediums. He pulled out four t shirts and stuffed the rest back into the box. “Zale’s really made a mess of this whole place.” 

“I think I got sweaters,” Radar mumbled from behind a pile of boxes nearly twice his height. “Yeah, Hawkeye, I found sweaters. How many?” 

“How many are there?” 

“Uh… six mediums.” 

“How about larges?” 

Radar counted the stack. “Fifteen.” 

Hawkeye walked over and surveyed the pile, grabbing a couple of medium sweaters and a few larges and stuffed them into an empty box from the corner of the tent. “C’mere and help me tie this closed. I want it to look like a mail package. And you get to deliver it.” Radar looked at him quizzically. “It’d look a bit odd with me walking in to her tent with a stack of clothes, wouldn’t it?” 

“Well no odder than you and Major Houlihan not showing up to reveille together, sir.” 

“Of course. And that’s why you’re going to spread the word that Margaret’s gallbladder is bothering her again, but that she’s refusing treatment again.” 

“Yes, sir. I managed to trade Sparky for some canned fruits. I know it’s not exactly what she wants, but I’m hoping it’ll help.” Radar helped Hawkeye tie the box shut and took it from supply to the main office. 

Hawkeye walked back to Margaret’s tent, kicking his boots off by her bed and laid back down beside her. He pressed a kiss to her crown and pulled a lock of hair off her face. “I love you, Margaret.”


	3. Chapter 3

Margaret had taken to hiding behind whoever she was assisting, and making sure she was only working alongside Hawkeye or BJ. It was getting much harder to hide her stomach behind the surgery gowns. Surgery was long and grueling and she switched out with Kellye to go take a nap. She slipped back into the scrub room and sat on the bench, resting her head against the wall. 

“Aw jeez, Major. You gotta go lay down,” Radar said, helping her to her feet. “Your belly is obvious when you lay like that,” he whispered. 

She jerked her eyes open, sitting up and pulled the gown away from her stomach. “Thank you, Corporal.” 

“Do you want help getting to your tent? Colonel Potter says you’ve got the rest of the night off. They’re almost done.” 

“No, I think I’ve got it. I’ll see you in the morning.” She peeled off her gown and threw it in the hamper, turning away from the curtain to pull on her sweater. She made it as far as the Swamp before she walked in and dumped herself into Hawkeye’s bunk. He’d stayed his distance for the last few weeks, at her request, but the scent of his bed was comforting. She wrapped his blanket around her and snuggled in. The December cold was biting as the wind blew through the holes in the empty tent. She got up and started the stove, wrapping Hawk’s blanket around her as it got burning. When the tent began to warm up, she crawled back into the bed and closed her eyes, letting sleep pull her under. 

She woke up to the clattering of the door as BJ and Hawkeye poured themselves in.

“Hey, Margaret, you okay?” 

She wiped the sleep from her eyes. “Yeah I’m just— My tent’s too far. So I… thought I’d be gone before you guys came back. I’ll get going.” She stood up and pulled her sweater looser around her stomach, and pushed her way to the door. “Goodnight, gentlemen.” 

Hawkeye put his arm out across the doorway and wrapped it around her waist as she tried to push through him. “Hey, where are you going? We’ve hardly seen each other for a month. How’re you feeling?” 

BJ backed out through the door. “I’ll leave you two alone and keep Charles in the mess tent a bit longer. You two kids have fun.” He closed the door and they listened as he whistled his way to the mess tent. 

“I’ve missed you,” Margaret said, leaning into Hawk’s arms. 

“You’re the one who pushed me away. Again, might I add. Every time you have a ‘gallbladder’ incident, you push me away. Right after we found out, right after that time in your tent when we missed reveille. I get it, I get why you do it, but it— never mind. I miss you too.” He pulled her into his chest and pressed a kiss to her head. “But I’m exhausted and I’ve got to sleep before I fall asleep standing up.” He dropped to his bunk and untied his shoes. “You’re welcome to join me and run in the morning, though.” He kicked his shoes off and stared. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“You’re right,” she said, “I’ve been running. But I got my divorce papers in the mail today—yesterday. I’m no longer Mrs Donald Penobscot.” 

“Yeah?” Hawkeye’s tone was hopeful as Margaret walked closer. 

“Yeah. I’m just Major Margaret Houlihan now.” She stood in front of him and pulled his hands to her stomach. “The baby’s moving. You could finally feel her now if you wanted to.” 

Hawkeye eased his hands up beneath her sweater and let his hands span across her stomach. He never ceased to be absolutely amazed at the things the human body could do; the way it was made to grow like this. “Hi baby,” he said. “I’m Hawkeye. Technically my name is Ben, but you get to call me dad.” The baby kicked beneath his hands and a smile stretched across his face. “Hi!” He chuckled slightly. “Hi.” 

“I think he likes you,” Margaret said. “That’s the most he’s kicked all day.” 

“She knows it’s me.” He pressed a kiss to Margaret’s stomach. “It’s a girl and she’s going to be every bit as beautiful as her mother is.” He pulled Margaret down on his lap and pressed a kiss to her lips, his hand still resting on her stomach. 

Margaret grabbed Hawk’s face in her hands and deepened the kiss. Her arms wrapped around Hawk’s neck and her nails traced up and down his spine. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. The door slammed open and Margaret was quick to pull back, but Hawkeye wasn’t quick enough to release. 

“Margaret?” Charles said, making Hawk grip her a little tighter, his eyes wide. Charles’s eyes were trained on Hawk’s hand on her stomach. “Margaret—”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say anything to anyone. Keep it to yourself. I don’t want or need your pompous holier-than-thou snobbery.” She yanked her sweater down and pulled herself from Hawk’s arms, slamming the door behind her. Hawk stared dumbfounded at the door. 

“Pierce—” 

“BJ was supposed to keep you away,” he said softly. 

“I snuck away from him. Lost him near the latrines. Pierce, how far along is she?” He knelt down beside Hawkeye, trying to meet his eyes. “Pierce, I won’t tell anyone about Margaret, believe me. But how long have you two been hiding this? Is it yours?” Hawkeye nodded blankly, still staring at the door. “Are you okay?” 

Hawk finally looked at Charles. “I don’t know.” He pushed up off his bunk. “I have to go find Margaret.” He pulled on his coat and pushed through the door leaving Charles standing in the middle of the tent. 

BJ walked in and saw Charles staring at the empty bunk. “What’s up with Hawk?” 

“How long has Margaret been pregnant?” 

BJ stopped in his tracks. “What? How did you— Oh god. You can’t tell anyone or they’ll send Margaret home.” 

“What’s so wrong with that? Out of the army, out of Korea.”

“Back in a country with no real home, out of the country where her baby’s father is, discharged from the army which is the only career she’s ever wanted.” BJ threw his coat over into his corner. “Damn it! We were all doing so good. To the point where Hawk hasn’t hardly talked to her for the last three weeks because she asked him not to. And they stayed apart for a month after they found out, again, because Margaret wanted him to. And they were sure! They were sure that someone was going to figure it out just because they were spending time together.” 

“So the gallbladder— it was all a lie?” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” BJ said, pulling on clean clothes. “I’m going to find them but you can’t speak another word about this to anyone.” He dodged around Charles and bolted out the door. 

“What is happening here?” Charles asked, once again standing alone in the middle of the tent. 

_____

“Margaret, please. Let me in.” Hawk was knocking on the door to her tent. “Please.” His fingers were tangling in his hair. “Margaret,” he whined. 

BJ came up behind him. “You okay?”

“She won’t let me in,” he whined. He began to rock in place, his hands tangling tighter in his hair. “I’m not leaving her.” 

“I’m not asking you to, okay?” He wrapped his coat around Hawk’s shoulders. “Can you stop pulling your hair?” Hawk shook his head. “Okay can you loosen your grip a little?” BJ was suddenly glad for the last fourteen hours of surgery. There was no one in the compound to see Hawk break down. “Hawk you’re hurting yourself, can you tug on your shirt instead?”

“I need to see her.” 

“I know. But I want you to know that Charles isn’t going to tell anyone. Okay? He hates authority just as much as we do. He’s not going to tell.” 

“I need to see Margaret,” Hawk said. “I need to see her.” 

“I know, Hawk. Please stop pulling your hair.” 

“Margaret? Let me in. Can I please come in?” The lock on the door opened and he heard her shuffle away from the door. He pushed open the door and let it close against his back. “I’m sorry,” he said. His fingers were still tangling in his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Margaret looked at him from her desk, where she was packing away her belongings. Tear tracks were on her cheeks as she set her perfume in her trunk. “What?” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Margaret stood up and rushed over to Hawkeye, pulling him into her arms. “Please don’t. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. It was inevitable.” 

“BJ said Charles isn’t going to tell, if that’s worth anything. I don’t— I don’t think he will.”

Margaret’s hands moved up to Hawk’s, gently untangling his fingers from his hair. “You gotta stop pulling, okay?” She untangled one hand and set it on her stomach. His fingers tangled and untangled in her shirt. “It’s okay, use my shirt instead of your hair.” He whined high in his throat as Margaret untangled his other hand from his hair. “I’m sorry I ran. I just didn’t want to hear whatever came out of his mouth.” 

“Well, if it makes a difference, I didn’t hear whatever came out of his mouth either. I… just wanted to find you.” His hands clenched at the hemline of Margaret’s sweater. “I’m sorry.” He felt a pair of tiny feet kick against his hand. His hands moved from the sweater to press against Margaret’s stomach through her t-shirt. “Hi baby.” 

“We have to figure out names, you know.” 

“We’ve still got a while. Twenty weeks.” His thumbs rubbed back and forth across her stomach. “You told me you love me.” 

Margaret set her hands on top of Hawk’s drawing his gaze up to her eyes. “I do love you.” 

“Good,” Hawk breathed, looking back down at their hands. “That’s good. I love you too.” 

“Why don’t you come away from the door?” Margaret led him away from the door by his hands, held firmly in place by her own. “Come on. We can lay here and talk baby names.” 

_____

They were cornered the next morning in Margaret’s tent. Radar, Charles, and BJ were all leaning against different furniture when Margaret opened her eyes. “Hawk,” she said, nudging him awake. She pulled her blanket farther over her chest. “Hawk, wake up.” 

“No thanks,” he said burrowing into her side. 

“Hawkeye, I really think you should wake up.” She pushed him out of her side and yanked the blanket off him. “C’mon.” 

He rolled over and cracked his eyes open, reeling back when he saw the three men in the tent with them. “Now I’m glad we put our clothes on after sex last night,” he joked, earning himself a slap to the ribs. “What is this all about?” 

“We wanted to talk to you together and this seemed the best way to do it.” 

“It wasn’t my idea, sirs, honest,” Radar said, looking uncomfortable in Margaret’s chair. 

“No,” Charles said, “it was mine. You two don’t seem to have much confidence in my keeping secrets, but I swear on my honor as a Winchester that I will not do anything to put you two, especially you Margaret, in harm’s way. Though I do think you should inform Colonel Potter, I will not be the one to tell him.” 

“Thank you Charles,” Margaret said, her hand finding Hawk’s under the blanket. 

“I shall do anything within my power and wealth to help you.”

“Me too,” BJ said. “And I know it’s not much but I know you haven’t told your dad, Hawk, but I think we could get a message through if we have to. I figure we send the letter out in a package and the army is less likely to find it. If that doesn’t work, Peg would be willing to help out, even if it means letting Margaret stay with her until you’re stateside.” 

Hawk’s hand went to tug on his hair. He wasn’t pulling hard, but Margaret and BJ both kept their eyes on him in case it started getting rough. “I’ll desert before we’re separated.”

“It won’t come to that,” BJ said. 

“Christmas is coming up, is there anything any of us can do or get for you?” Radar asked. “I can see what I can requisition or trade for. I’ve got some fruit for you, sir, but it’s only canned. And I managed to trade for some yarn so you can knit some clothing. I know it’s not much but it’s what I’ve got so far.” 

“Knitting,” Hawk murmured under his breath. “I could start knitting.” His hands started moving as if he was starting to knit. “Imagine the stuff I could make in twenty weeks.”

_____

Nearly three months later, Margaret was barely able to conceal her stomach. Her hips hurt, her back hurt. Long surgery hours were killing her. She was so stressed, so tired. Her growing stomach was pressing against Hawk’s sweater. 

She was currently bent over a boy in post-op, checking his blood pressure when she started feeling faint. A colonel from a nearby battalion was visiting his wounded though, so she pushed through. She moved from soldier to soldier, checking on the boys laying in the bed. They were full today, each bed full with a few more of the healthier ones stuck in the swamp. 

“Major, are you alright?” 

Margaret looked up at the visiting colonel. “Yeah, I think I just…need to sit.” Her knees buckled from beneath her and the colonel caught her, raking up her sweater in the process. 

“Major Houlihan,” he growled. “What is the meaning of this?” He led her over to the nearest cot and set her down by a soldier’s legs. 

She doubled over her stomach, sharp pains striking through her abdomen. “Get a doctor.” One of the nurses who had been watching piped up with a “yes, Major” before scurrying off to find someone. Margaret balanced her elbows on her knees, propping her head up on her hands. She felt like she was going to throw up. 

“Colonel, I need a garbage can.” 

“What?” 

“Garbage can,” she groaned out, swallowing down the ball in her throat. 

A garbage can was pushed between her legs and a hand grabbed her hair. “Margaret, it’s BJ. What are you feeling?” 

“Sharp pain in my stomach. Dizzy. Uh—” She leaned forward back over the garbage basket. 

“Okay, Margaret, let’s get you back to OR. I’ll do a checkup in there, okay? Can you walk?” She nodded and he grabbed her arm, leading her back to the OR. “C’mon. Bigelow, can you go find Hawkeye? C’mon Margaret, let’s go.” He helped her sit up on an OR table. “What’s going on?” 

She laid down on the table and propped her legs up. “I was feeling dizzy in post-op but I was pushing through it. And I— my knees buckled and that colonel out there caught me and my shirt came up when he did and he knows. He knows, BJ. This is it.” Her hands grasped at her stomach as another pain shot through it. 

BJ grabbed his stethoscope and began taking Margaret’s vitals. He was working on her blood pressure when the doors pushed open, Hawkeye running through panicked. “Margaret?” 

“I’m fine, Hawkeye.” 

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “Is something wrong with the baby?” 

Margaret darted up. “I’m what?!” 

BJ eased her back down. “Stay calm, Margaret. Your blood pressure is already sky high. That’s not good for the baby.” 

Hawkeye pulled out his stethoscope and grabbed Margaret’s hand. “I’m going to get a heart rate on the baby, okay?” He eased up her shirt and blew a quick breath on the stethoscope. “Gotta warm it up or the baby’ll jump away from the cold.” His hand pressed around on her stomach, searching for the baby’s heartbeat. “C’mon, where is she?” 

The OR doors burst open once more. “What in the blue blazes is going on here?!” Colonel Potter bellowed as he pushed through. He stopped abruptly as he saw Margaret on the table. “Margaret? Someone explain to me what’s going on, now.”

“I’m a bit busy, Colonel, if you could quiet down for a second.” Hawk was leaning over Margaret’s abdomen, still searching for a heartbeat. “Please,” he pleaded, and Sherm wasn’t sure if it was to him or to the baby. “Please.” The stethoscope was kicked as Hawkeye searched for a heartbeat. “I’m glad you’re in there but please let me hear your heartbeat.” Hawk took a shuddering breath as he blinked back the tears in his eyes. 

“Let me try, Hawk,” BJ whispered. 

“No, she just kicked my hand, I’m sure of it. Let me try again.” He eased his hand back and readjusted his position, his hands shaking. “C’mon little one.” Hawkeye was shaking as he worked. “Oh,” he breathed. The baby’s heartbeat filled his ears. “There you are.” He watched his watch and counted the beats. “140.” He wrapped the stethoscope around his neck and took a shuddering breath as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “140.” 

“Someone, for the love of all that is holy, please tell me what’s going on.” 

“Margaret’s pregnant,” BJ said plainly. 

“Thank you, Hunnicutt, I have eyes. Why did you lie to me, Pierce? And Margaret?” 

“I didn’t want to be discharged,” she said, “but there’s something wrong.” She curled around her stomach as the sharp pain shot through her again. 

Colonel Potter shot into doctor mode. “Contractions?” 

“I don’t know,” she groaned. “Some are sharp, not like contractions. Not regular either. But others are definitely contractions.” 

“What’s your water intake been?” 

“I don’t— I’m not sure. Not as much as usual but I still drink it.” 

“You’re dehydrated,” Colonel Potter said. “Tired, dizzy, rapid heartbeat. The colonel out there said you damn near fainted on him. Get some IV fluids in her stat while I go put out fires in post-op. And sit up, that should ease the contractions some.” 

BJ stepped back. “I’ll run to supply and grab a bottle of fluids. I’ll be right back.” 

Margaret sat up as the door closed. “What about the bleeding, Hawk? That can be a sign of any number of problems.” She sat up and crossed her legs. She hissed as a pain shot through her lower back. 

“Once Beej gets back and we get you hooked up to the IV, I’ll check your cervix, okay? But she’s strong and she’s moving and her heart rate is strong.” His hand moved to his hair and he tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was so worried about you, Margaret,” he said, his voice cracking. "Bigelow told me that you passed out and I thought the worst.” 

“I didn’t actually pass out,” Margaret corrected. 

“Margaret I thought I was losing you. Or the baby. And my heart just— it just dropped into my stomach and burst into my throat all at once.” He grabbed her hand. “Marry me, Margaret.”

“Hawk, don’t—” 

“Hear me out, Margaret, please. I love you. I love you so much it terrifies me. I thought something had happened to you and I realized that if something were to happen to one of us, the other would be left high and dry.” 

“So you want to marry me for convenience?” she quipped, breathing through a contraction. 

“No! You’re not listening. I love you, Margaret Houlihan! I’m in love with you! I want to spend the rest of my life with you and if something were to happen to me, yes, I’d want you to get my benefits. But I want you to marry me because you love me and I love you and we’re going to have a perfect little family. Marry me, Margaret. I’d get down on one knee but I don’t want to be proposing to the edge of the operating table.”

She turned and eased herself off the operating table, leaning back against it as another pain hit her back. “Alright, how about now? I need to be wowed.” 

Hawkeye immediately sunk to one knee and held her hand. “I just bared my entire heart to you after you scared me half to death and if you think I’m doing that again, you’re sadly mistaken. But marry me anyways, Margaret. Marry me.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

She nodded. “Alright,” she said with a grin. “I’ll marry you. Before or after baby?” 

“Whatever you want, I just need you.” He stood up and gave her a searing kiss, pushing her back into the table. “Now get back up there before I put you there myself.” 

She eased herself back up onto the table and dangled her legs over the edge, leaning back to rest her head on Hawk’s shoulder. “I’m so tired,” she said, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“I know. We’ll have to talk about what we’re going to do now that you’re being discharged. But that can wait until after we fill your bladder.” 

“As if I don’t have to pee enough already, you’re going to give me more fluids.”

“Yes, we are,” BJ said, already opening the bottle of saline as he walked in. “And you’re going to take the whole bottle.” 

She held her arm out for BJ to set up the IV. “Be easy with me, Hunnicutt,” she said. 

“Of course.” He set the bottle up and— “little pinch”— eased the needle into her arm. “I’ll come by and check on you in a little bit, okay?” 

“BJ, can you send Father Mulcahy in here?” Margaret asked. 

BJ tugged on the stethoscope around his neck. “Margaret, you’re going to be fine. When the contractions stop, Hawk can check your cervix and we’ll put you on bed rest, but you’ll be absolutely fine.” 

Margaret waved her hand at him, brushing him off. “I’m not dying, Hunnicutt. We need him to help plan our wedding,” she said, leaning into Hawk. 

“A wedding! Hey!” he cheered. “Congratulations! I’ll go get him for you guys.” He pulled the pair into a hug, an arm around each one. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Well, you’d better be,” Hawk said. “It’d be awkward if my best man didn’t approve.” 

BJ pressed a kiss to Margaret’s cheek, then one to Hawk’s. “I’d love to be your best man. I’ll go get Father Mulcahy. And then I’ll have to get my suit cleaned.” 

Father Mulcahy came in a few minutes later. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “So it’s true. I heard you collapsed in post-op, Major, but I thought the rest was mere gossip. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. How are you feeling?” 

“Tired,” Margaret admitted, rubbing her stomach as another pain shot through. 

“Father, we want to talk to you about officiating our wedding,” Hawkeye said, coming around the table. 

“A wedding? How wonderful! I’d love to officiate. When will this be happening?” 

“Tomorrow,” Margaret said. Hawkeye’s head jerked to look at her, his eyes wide. “And then I’m on bed rest.” 

“Bed rest? Is everything okay?” 

“For now it is,” Hawk said, “but she’s getting put on rest so it doesn’t turn not okay. And so I can try to keep her in camp.” 

“I’ll be there to keep you company, should you need it,” Francis said. 

“I’d love that,” Margaret said. She looked at the IV bottle, already half empty. _How dehydrated was I?_ “I’ll have to see if Klinger has anything I can wear this time around. Anything will do, it maybe shouldn’t be white,” she joked, hands still on her stomach. She frowned as she watched people peek through the post-op windows at her as they walked by. She sat up straight and eased the sweater back over her stomach, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“You okay?”

“No one’s known a thing for seven months and now I’m under a magnifying glass. I don’t like it. I want to go back to my tent.” 

“Finish up your drink and I’ll check your, uh—” Hawk stopped and looked at Father Mulcahy. “Vitals.” 

“You don’t need to censor your words around me, Hawkeye. I’m Irish, I’m Catholic, and I’m the oldest in the family. I’ll block the windows for you from the other side.” He set his hand on Margaret’s arm. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Thank you Father.” 

Hawk stepped away from the table. “I’m going to grab a sheet and some gloves, okay?” He dug around the supplies in the corner of the room and came back with a set of gloves, some surgical lube, and a sheet and set all but the gloves on the table. “How are you feeling?” 

“The contractions have stopped, I think. The pains have mostly stopped.” 

“Alright, I need you to get naked for me. At least from the bottom down. One of my favorite parts,” he said waggling his eyebrows. 

Margaret glared at him but eased her pants down. She stared at the blood stain on the crotch. “Oh my god,” she whispered. 

“Hey, don’t worry about that right now,” Hawk said, laying the sheet out on the table. “Finish stripping and get up here so I can check your cervix and we can _stop_ worrying.” He pulled the pants from her grip and folded them, setting them down on the very end of the table. “You’ll be okay.” She slipped her underwear down and shoved them in between the folded layers of her pants. “Come on, up on the table. I’ll take care of the laundry.” 

She climbed up on the table and pulled the excess sheet over her legs and stared at the ceiling lights. The sound of gloves snapping filled the empty room and Margaret tensed. 

“You’re okay,” Hawk murmured. It was over before she knew it and Hawk was helping her sit up. “You’re two and a half centimeters dilated. You definitely need to be put on bed rest. I’ll have someone run and grab you clean clothes. Any choices who?” 

“BJ,” she said. “He’s least likely to gawk.”

He walked over to the door and passed the message to Father Mulcahy, who left to find BJ. He stood next to the table again, his hands pulling on the stethoscope around his neck. “Do you want to hear her? Her heartbeat?” 

Margaret nodded. “Absolutely.” 

Hawk smiled and put the stethoscope in his ears. “Let me find her.” He pressed the stethoscope to her stomach and felt around, laughing as the baby rolled around beneath his hand. “You’re making it rough to hear,” he said, which got him another kick. Margaret smiled at how bright Hawk’s face was. “There she is,” he said, easing the stethoscope from his ears. “Here, listen.” 

Margaret eased the stethoscope into her ears and closed her eyes, focusing on the sound. Something hit against the stethoscope sending a loud thump into her ears. She couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”


	4. Chapter 4

Margaret was getting tired of all the people knocking on her door. She sat in front of her closet on her desk chair, staring at all the clothes she had that wouldn’t fit her. She wasn’t wearing a wedding dress this time; not only would she not fit, but it didn’t do her any good last time, why bother this time? 

“Come in,” she said, slumping back in her chair. 

“Good morning, Major Houlihan! What a wonderful day for a wedding!” 

“Klinger, it’s the middle of February. It’s cold, I’m fat, and I’m tired. The only thing wonderful about it is that it’s my wedding. And I don’t even have anything that’ll fit.” 

“But I do,” Klinger said, pulling in a dress bag. “I stayed up all night making this for you.” He hung the clothes hanger up on the open closet door and unzipped it, pulling it out. 

It was a soft pink with a skirt that flowed to the floor. “Klinger, where did you get this much pink fabric?” She reached out and stroked the fabric, letting it flow beneath her fingertips. “Were you saving this for yourself? Klinger, I can’t take this. I took one of your dresses for my last wedding.” 

“Well, I’m not pregnant, so this one won’t fit me too well, Major. Besides, I’m hoping that since I took so much time and effort to make you a dress with my own blood, sweat, and tears that this wedding will last a bit longer. Hopefully the rest of your lives.” 

Her fingers hadn’t left the fabric once. Hawkeye was going to love this. “I think this one will last forever.” She stood up and grabbed the dress, holding it up to her body. “It’s beautiful, Klinger.” She sniffed back tears. “It’s mine? It’s really for me?” 

“Of course! And I’ve got a couple’a nurses lined up to help you with your hair and makeup. I’d do it, but Hawkeye might kill me if I tried helping you into your dress. I’ll go get Kellye and Ginger and they’ll be right in.” He dashed out the door and the two nurses came in. 

“Good morning, Major! Are you excited?” Kellye asked, standing beside Margaret. 

“I’m getting there,” Margaret said. She looked at the dress against herself in the mirror again and smiled. She handed the dress over to Ginger. “Can you guys help me in this?” 

“That’s what we’re here for,” Ginger said. “I’m hair, Kellye’s makeup. We’ll get you looking hot for Hawkeye.” 

“Not too hot,” she said. “I’m on bed rest until the baby’s here. And not the fun kind.” She pulled Hawk’s robe off her shoulders and hung it on the back of her chair. 

“Could Hawk even handle that?” Ginger snickered, grabbing Margaret’s brushes from her desk. 

“Of course he could! He’s turned me down the last few months more than you’d think. It’s actually a bit heartwarming.” 

Ginger laughed. “Yeah I bet being turned away is really heartwarming.” Margaret rolled her eyes. 

“I think it can be sweet!” Kellye defended. “It shows he’s not just looking for sex from her. It’s nice.” 

“What’s he like in the sack? Is he any good?” Ginger waited for Margaret to pull her t-shirt off before slipping the dress over her head. The soft layers fell around her stomach and she took a shuddering breath. “It’s gorgeous, Margaret. You’re gorgeous.” 

“Really?” Margaret looked at herself in the mirror. Ginger zipped up the back of the dress and smoothed out the sleeves on Margaret’s arms. 

“Absolutely, Major,” Kellye said, looking through Margaret’s makeup. “I’m just doing something simple for your makeup. Is there anything else you want done?” 

“I— maybe my nails repainted? But you guys really don’t have to. I’m so thankful for your help already.” She eased herself back into the chair and let Kellye and Ginger work their magic. Ginger’s hands curled Margaret’s hair back and pinned it into place, leaving her hair hanging loose. She closed her eyes and let the girls poke and prod around her. 

“You’re ready, Major.” 

Margaret opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. The dress was gorgeous and her hair was softly curled back away from her face. Kellye had done her makeup to look very soft and natural, and her nails were newly painted pink. Her eyes were starting to well up with tears. 

“Don’t cry, you’ll ruin the makeup!” Ginger chastised. “You look stunning, Major.” 

“You guys can call me Margaret. I’m not going to be a major for much longer. I’m sure the army is streamlining my discharge papers right now.” Her hands came to rest on her stomach again. 

“Why’d you hide it for so long? The nurses would’ve helped you. I would have, anyway.”

“Me too,” Ginger said. 

“Hawkeye and I tried to keep it as quiet as we could. Our parents don’t even know. We weren’t going to take the chance that censors would find the letters and report us. We were getting close to telling Colonel Potter ourselves though. I wasn’t fitting into Hawkeye’s clothes anymore. It was only a matter of time, I suppose.” She slumped down in her chair. “I’m pretty sure the colonel is mad at me though. Understandably.” 

“I don’t think he’s too mad,” Kellye said, “He was talking about hoping you’d let him walk you down the aisle again at supper last night.” 

“Really?” Margaret asked hopefully. “He wants to?” 

“Of course! Do you want me to go get him?” 

Margaret nodded. “You think you could?” 

Kellye nodded and Ginger replied, “Course. Let us go get him for you.” 

“Thank you two. For everything,” she stood up and wrapped an arm around each of them and pulled them into a hug. “I know I haven’t really done anything to deserve it.” 

“You deserve the best in life, Margaret. Even if you are a hard-ass.” Ginger hugged her back. “We’ll see you at the wedding.” 

The sudden silence was deafening as they left. Margaret looked around her tent at all the things that would need to be packed. She yanked her footlocker over to her desk and began to pack in her books. She bent around her stomach, setting he books in gently. She grabbed the small box for her makeup and nail polishes and packed them in. Bit by bit, she filled up her footlocker. Three years worth of things all had to go— well, somewhere. She didn’t know where yet.

She stood up and began to take down some of the photos from her wall. “You’re supposed to be resting,” Colonel Potter said from the doorway. He was dressed in his Class A uniform, his hat under his arm. “That means no strenuous activities.” 

“Colonel, I’ve got to pack. I’ll be leaving soon.” 

“Then we’ll make your husband to be pack for you then. Sit, sit. You look beautiful, Margaret.” He took her hand in his and sat her down on the bed. “Kellye told me you wanted to see me.” 

“I’d really be happy if you could give me away again,” she said. “What do you say?” 

“Aw Margaret, I’d love to. You gotta tell me though, how’d you keep all this under wraps? I think we all guessed something was going on between you and Pierce— I did anyway— but a baby? You’ve gotta be what— six months?” 

“Seven.” 

“Seven months, Margaret! You’ve had this charade going on for six months?” 

“Well, five. But yes. And it was all my idea so don’t reprimand the others. They were just doing what I asked.” 

Colonel Potter sat on the edge of her bed. “The others? How many others knew?” His voice sounded a bit hurt.

“Uh, well, Hawkeye, of course. And he told BJ for moral support. Radar, but he just knows these things, no one told him. And Charles found out a couple months ago. It— You have to understand, Colonel, that I didn’t want to leave. I don’t. I can’t. I don’t know where I’m going but I’m staying in Korea until Hawkeye goes home.” 

“Margaret—” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go home to. I’m not going to Crabapple Cove without him. What a way to meet his father, not to mention tell him about the baby.” 

“He doesn’t know?” 

Margaret stared at her hands, at the wall, at everything and anything but Colonel Potter’s face. “No, he doesn’t. My parents either. Before yesterday, no one knew but the five of us. And Charles found out on accident.” She set her hands on Colonel Potter’s and squeezed. “I was going to tell you soon, I promise. Once I couldn’t hide in Hawkeye’s clothes anymore. Which— it probably would have been by the end of this week.” 

“Well that’s comforting to know,” he deadpanned. “I’m happy for you two nonetheless. Are you ready to go? It’s 10:49. Nearly time to go.” 

Margaret took a shuddering breath as she stood up. “Do you think this marriage is going to go as spectacularly bad as my last one?” 

“I think Pierce would rather die first.” 

_____

The mess tent door was opened as people filed in and found a place to stand. Margaret and Colonel Potter were waiting in the hospital for people to stop filing in. “There weren’t this many people at my first wedding,” she said. 

“I’m sure most of these people are here because they can’t believe Hawkeye Pierce is getting married. Come to think of it, I don’t remember signing those papers, Major.” 

“We had Radar sneak them in a couple of months ago while you were signing papers. I’m not sure how he managed it, but I’m glad he did.” 

“Well, all’s well I suppose. Are you ready to go?” Potter took her hand in his and helped her stand up. “Gotta get this over with and get you back to bed.” 

Margaret’s arm interlocked with Potter’s and her other fell to her stomach. “I don’t think I ever want this moment to be over with,” she whispered as the music warbled over the PA. “Let’s go.

The walk to the mess tent was brisk; maybe they should have done this before February. Inside the tent was much warmer. Margaret looked down until she got all the way inside and gasped as she looked up. 

Hawkeye was standing at the end of the aisle, big grin on his face, tears on his cheeks. The look on his face was pure adoration. Nurses lined the aisles, tossing pieces of colored tongue depressors in front of Margaret as she walked. Margaret beamed as she walked watching as she got closer to Hawkeye. “Here you go, Margaret,” Potter said as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Pierce, treat her well.” He stepped back into the first row of people. 

“Hi,” Hawkeye said, grabbing her hands. “You look… phenomenal. Absolutely gorgeous.” 

“I can’t believe you’re wearing your Class As. I can’t believe… everyone’s wearing their Class As.” 

“I’d do anything for you. Are you ready?” 

“More than anything,” she said and they turned to Father Mulcahy. 

“Dearly beloved, we are here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is intended by God for the couple’s mutual joy, which I’m certain we have here today. While I’d love to give you all a sermon since I’ve got you here, and since I rarely see you here on Sundays, this ceremony is going to have to be quick. If I get talking I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop,” Father Mulcahy said, earning himself some scattered laughing. “Into this union, Margaret and Benjamin now come to be joined. If any of you have just cause why they should not be lawfully wed, hush up.” 

Hawkeye looked down at Margaret, the smile on his face even wider, if that was possible. 

“I charge you both, here in the presence of God and the witness of this company, that if either of you have a reason you may not lawfully marry, confess it.” 

A breeze blew into the mess tent as someone opened the door and stepped inside. Hawk and Margaret turned to look at each other, their eyes never once leaving the other. 

“Margaret Irene Houlihan, do you take this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in sickness and health? Will you, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?” 

“I do. I absolutely do.” Hawkeye smiled and squeezed her hands. 

“And do you, Benjamin Franklin Pierce, take this woman to be your wife to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and health? Will you, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?” 

“And then some,” he said. “I do.” 

“Do you have the rings?” 

BJ reached into his pocket and grabbed the rings, handing one to Hawkeye.

Hawkeye took Margaret’s right hand in his. “I, Benjamin Pierce, take you, Margaret Houlihan, to be my wife, to have and hold from this day forwards, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do us part. This is my most solemn vow.” He slipped the ring on her finger. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and with all that I am and all that I have, I promise to honor you for the rest of my life.” He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles and released her hand. 

BJ stepped forward and handed Margaret a ring. 

“You got yourself a ring too?” She laughed, dabbing away tears. She grabbed his hand in hers. “I, Margaret Irene Houlihan, take you, Benjamin Franklin Pierce, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness an in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part. This is my solemn vow.” She eased the ring onto his finger. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” 

“Now that Margaret and Benjamin have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce them to be husband and wife, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder. Hawkeye, you may kiss the bride.” 

“With pleasure,” he said, pulling Margaret to him and dipping her slightly. The kiss was soft and full of all the love they shared. He pulled her upright again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.” 

Father Mulcahy stepped forward. “Now announcing the newly wed Mr and Mrs Houlihan-Pierce!” 

Cheers went up and BJ clapped Hawkeye on the shoulder. “Welcome to the marriage club, Hawk. It’s amazing here.” 

“Alright, darling, let’s get you to bed,” Hawkeye said, pulling Margaret into another kiss. 

“Benjamin Franklin Houlihan-Pierce? As if your name wasn’t long enough, you went and stole mine too?” 

“I didn’t steal it,” he insisted. “You have to share it now, being husband and wife and what’s mine is yours and everything.” He turned to lead her back down the aisle and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Margaret.” 

Margaret’s gaze turned away from Hawk to meet her father square in the face. “Dad,” she breathed, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” 

“I should ask you the same question.” He stared at her. “You didn’t think it was necessary to share this with me?” He gestured to her, her wedding dress, her obviously pregnant stomach. “What are you even doing in the army?” 

“My— my discharge papers— What are you doing here?” She winced as a pain shot through her back. 

“I heard the rumors and I figured since I was nearby, but— Margaret, I never thought in a hundred years that it would be you. I thought you were smarter than that. And what about Donald?” 

“We’re divorced. He kept cheating on me.” 

“Oh, and Mr Womanizer here isn’t going to? I’ve heard about him, Margaret. And I remember him from the last time I was here. And this is what you chose? Why? Because he got you pregnant? Or is it Donald’s? It’s not legal until you sign the papers.” 

“I’m signing the papers first chance I get and you can’t stop me,” she spat, pushing past him. She stormed to her tent and threw things into her footlocker, sinking down on the bed. Her arms wrapped around her stomach and she curled in on herself. Her tent door opened. “Go away,” she said, not opening her eyes. 

“I can if you really want me to,” Hawkeye said from the doorway. “But I would really rather not.” 

Margaret bolted up and opened her eyes. “Hawkeye,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he’d be here. I thought he was stateside again.” 

“Don’t worry about him,” he said, sitting beside her. “I talked to him. Are you okay?” 

“I’m sorry I ruined the wedding,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. 

Hawkeye went and grabbed a washcloth and some cleanser from Margaret’s footlocker. “You didn’t ruin anything because it wasn’t ruined at all. To be honest, I anticipated incoming wounded. What I didn’t anticipate was you looking so gorgeous.” He gently wiped the makeup from her face. “I’m a bit irritated that you’re on bedrest now, because I’d love nothing more than to make love to my wife.” 

Margaret’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t anticipate you looking so handsome. Or in your Class As. I figured you’d wear that goofy tuxedo of your dad’s.” 

“I figured that _really_ dressing up was the least I could do, since you’re already doing so much for me. I also got everyone else in their nice dress, good touch, huh?” 

“I thought the colored tongue depressors were cute,” Margaret said, wiping tears with a soft smile. 

“That was the nurses’ idea. I thought it was a nice touch. They were a bit upset they couldn’t get you flower petals or a bouquet but I thought this was fun. I’ve got no urge to do it again.” 

“Me neither.” She laid down and pressed herself against the wall. “Come lay with me.” 

Hawk kicked off his shoes and climbed on the bed. “Are you okay? I saw you wincing earlier. I’m glad you’re not fighting me about bed rest.” 

“Not much to fight. Although, can we go back to the mess? I saw cake in there and I’d really like to have some.” 

“Oh of course, after I kick off my shoes. You’re supposed to be resting though, which means no more standing for today. Especially since you’re avoiding answering about your pain.” He leaned over and pulled his shoes back onto his feet. “I can get the wheelchair if you really want to go.” 

Margaret thought for a moment. No, she didn’t want to sit in the chair, but she also didn’t want to be sitting at all. “Yeah I really want the cake.” 

Hawkeye laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll go get your chariot.” He disappeared for a few minutes and returned, pushing the wheelchair. “Milady,” he said, gesturing to the chair. She moved over in the chair and he pushed her over to the mess tent. Her hands pressed to her stomach, cradling it. “Two months. Two months and then you’re off bed rest.” 

“Is dad disappointed in me?” Margaret asked, her voice small as they approached the tent. 

“Maybe. But he’s not going to ruin this for us. Also, this reminds me: we should send letters to our folks saying were married and expecting.” 

“Hawkeye, this is serious,” she chastised. 

“I know it is. My dad still doesn’t know. Your mother I’m assuming doesn’t know, your sister. Now that we’ve been had, it’s time to share the good news with our families. My dad’s going to be ecstatic. He’s always wanted grandchildren. And he— I’m his only hope for getting that now.” 

“I thought you were an only child.” She leaned forward and opened the door. 

“I had a sister who died when we were young.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t remember her much. I was three years older than her and I loved her so much. One day, we both got sick; I got better, she didn’t. I was seven. Mom died when I was ten. It’s just been me and dad since.” 

He helped her sit on the tabletop beside the cake. “I knew about your mom but you never mentioned your sister. Alright. Cake time.” She looked at the cake, carefully decorated with frosting flowers and a banner reading ‘Major and Captain Houlihan-Pierce’ and Margaret threw her head back and laughed. “You’re serious about the hyphenation.”

“Of course,” Hawkeye said. “I’m always serious.” He grabbed a knife and cut a slice of cake as everyone gathered around. He set the smaller piece of cake aside and cut a larger piece, handing it to Margaret. “Double the cake since you’re eating for two,” he joked. He caught her elbow with his ribs and he couldn’t help but toss his head back in laughter. 

“You’re a menace.” 

“And yet you married me anyway,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “How’re you feeling?” 

She looked past him. “My father’s looking at me.” 

“Hey,” Hawkeye whispered. “Don’t worry about him.” He sat down on the bench beside her legs. “You’ve got me and I’ve got you and that’s all we need.” 

“He’s still my dad though.” She took a bite of cake and looked down at it. “This is actually really good.” She dug in for another forkful. “Oh god, my father is coming over here.” 

“Margaret, sweetheart,” he started. 

“I thought you were stateside. Why are you here?” 

“How’s the baby? I hear you’ve been put on bed rest? I can get you home safe.” 

“I’m staying with Hawkeye until he goes home,” she stated. 

“What if I can get him transferred stateside? I would do that for you. I could even get you a promotion, Pierce.” He looked down at Hawkeye who was currently sniffing a forkful of cake. He looked up sheepishly at Margaret’s father and dropped the cake, pushing it away from him. 

“I don’t want a promotion. I—” His fingers began to tangle with each other. This was quickly turning into a confrontation he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in. He dropped his left hand and his right came up to wrap around his hair before that too dropped down to his lap.

Margaret climbed down from the table and sat beside him on the bench. “Hawk, are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I’m not sure this is the time or place to talk about this.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Hawkeye’s hands picked at the hem of his jacket and he rocked in place slightly before stopping himself. He wanted to scream in frustration. 

“Dad, can we continue this conversation some other time? Preferably never.” 

“What’s wrong with him?”

Margaret whipped towards him, fire in her eyes. “Absolutely _nothing_. We’ll talk later.” 

Hawkeye’s hands balled up the bottom of his jacket. “I’m fine, Margaret. Really. We’ll talk later, Colonel.” People were starting to line up for cake. “Cake’s actually pretty good. You should have some. The frosting really masks the cardboard well.” 

Al sat down on the other side of Hawkeye. “You can’t tell me you want her having the baby in Korea. C’mon Pierce, I can get her stateside and she can have the baby there. She can stay with me or her mother until you get home and we’ll take care of her. I’m impressed you did the right thing by marrying her but let me help my baby girl.” 

“Here’s the thing, Colonel. She’s my wife now, not my ward or child. And I’m not going to make her do anything she doesn’t want to.” 

“So you agree; you don’t want her in Korea.” 

“I—” His hand tangled in his hair. Margaret’s hand eased it out. 

“Dad, stop pestering him. You weren’t like this when Susan got pregnant.” 

“Your sister didn’t get knocked up in a war zone, Margaret. 

Colonel Potter sat himself across from Al. “Al, nice to see you again.” 

“Nice to see you, too, Sherm.” 

“Be a lot nicer if you could stop pestering these two, huh? Margaret’s already got her mind set that she’s not leaving Korea and I’m not inclined to force her to. And Captain Pierce isn’t either.” He pushed a piece of cake over to Al. “Eat the cake and rejoice in the fact that you’re getting a grandchild; one of the best things on the planet. And be thankful that it isn’t with someone who doesn’t love and cherish her.” 

“Sherm, you knew about this?” 

“No, Al, can’t say I knew before yesterday. And while I’m upset that Margaret’s stayed here this long and continued working, it’s much safer for her and the baby to stay in bed. She _should_ be resting now,” he said pointedly at Margaret, watching her coax Hawkeye into finishing his cake. 

“Hey, I’m sitting, aren’t I?” She lifted a piece of cake to Hawk’s mouth, smearing the frosting on his lips. “Eat up.” She teased a smile from Hawk, a devious twinkle in his eyes. He opened his mouth and ate the piece of cake. Margaret smiled and reached for another piece of cake. Hawk’s hand came up and swiped frosting across her cheek. 

An incredulous look crossed her face and Hawk rocked back on the bench, honking out that loud boisterous laugh. Margaret joined him with her own peals of laughter. She swiped some frosting and wiped it across Hawk’s forehead. They were in their own world and no one, not even Al, could pull them out of it. 

“They really do love each other, Al. You wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s happiness, would you?”


	5. Chapter 5

“Have you thought of any names yet?” Al Houlihan had cornered Margaret and Hawkeye in the mess tent during breakfast. “Alice is a nice name for a girl. Alan for a boy, maybe. Alistair. Alexander. Alexandra.” 

Margaret looked up from her breakfast— the last of the canned fruits Radar had snagged for her— and stared at her father. “No, we… I haven’t even started thinking about it. We were going to and just…didn’t.” Hawkeye was quiet as he stared at his coffee. “Hawkeye?” 

He shook his head. “Me neither.” 

Margaret grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it comfortingly. “You okay?” 

He just nodded tiredly. He always hated conversing with people after they’d seen him breakdown. He especially hated that it was Margaret’s father that had seen him break down. “Uhm… Grace for a girl. Vincent for a boy.” He was very quiet and Margaret couldn’t help but smile at how quickly he came up with some genuinely good choices. 

“Josephine or Christopher.” Margaret stabbed at a pear in the bottom of the can. 

“Katherine.” 

“Lawrence.” 

“Anthony.” 

“Joyce.” She was just throwing names out there but she was having fun. The pear slid off her fork, splattering pear juice everywhere and she threw her head back laughing. “Timothy.” 

“Jacqueline.” Hawkeye was starting to open up. His body stopped curling in on itself and his fingers were starting to tap against his coffee mug. 

“I— uhh— Damn it!” Margaret tossed her fork into the can in front of her and Hawkeye cackled. “I couldn’t come up with one more name?” She looked at Hawk, whose eyes were starting to twinkle. Margaret watched as he relaxed, his thigh pressing against hers. 

“Well, Margaret. I’m heading back out— stateside this time. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” He saw the panicked look in Hawk’s eyes as he grabbed for Margaret’s hand under the table. “Yeah I didn’t think so.” 

Hawkeye’s leg started bouncing under the table and Margaret looked at him. “Hawk?” 

“It’s safer stateside for you two.” He glanced over at her, at the hurt look on her face. “Look, Margaret, I don’t want you to leave any more than I want either of us to be stuck here but you have to admit that giving birth stateside is considerably safer than giving birth wherever you end up here in Korea. You have to move out of your tent, why not move home?” He couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Pierce—” 

“I’m not going stateside if you’re not going to be there. I’m not giving birth without you there!” 

“Margaret, sweetheart, I’m leaving. My offer stands, but I can see it’s causing tension. If you need me, I’m going to be in Tokyo for another week. I’ll see you two and the baby when this whole police action is over.” 

“Margaret, that could happen here! What if I’m stationed at an aid station?”

“I’d like to think our friends would go in your place if it happens that close to my due date!” She stood up, grabbing her can of pears and storming back to her tent. 

Everyone’s eyes were on Hawk as he sat on the bench. His leg was bouncing rapidly and one hand was bunching and un-bunching the thigh of his pants. The other moved to his hair. 

Al sat down next to him. “Don’t pull your hair, Pierce.” Hawkeye held back a whine as his hand joined the first one bunching up his pants. “Margaret used to pull her hair when she was little. I don’t think she does it much anymore.” He sighed. “Pierce, as much as I want to bring her stateside, she’s not going. She’s too stubborn. If you ask me, she gets it from her mother,” he said, nudging Hawk with his shoulder. “She’s going to stay with you. Let me know if she changes her mind. Or if you do. I can still get you transferred stateside if you want.” 

“I want to be in the states but I— not in the army. I’ll try to… I’ll try and convince her to go home.” 

“It’s not worth it, Hawkeye. She’s going to stay by your side. Let her mother and I know when the baby is born. Keep my baby girl safe.” He stood up and held a hand out to Hawk who stood up and took it. “Be better than her last husband, Pierce. Or I’ll make sure you regret it.” 

Hawkeye nodded as he shook Al’s hand. “You and everyone else, sir.” 

Al saluted him and walked away, back to the VIP tent. Hawk could feel eyes still staring at him. He looked at everybody in the mess tent, who all avoided eye contact with him. Hawkeye grabbed his dog tags and wrapped his hand around the chain, pulling it taut around his neck. He sunk back to the bench. It was probably best to let Margaret cool down for a few more minutes before he went to her tent. He grabbed his coffee mug and held it. The coffee was cooled now. He grabbed the mug and dumped the rest of his coffee into the bushes before walking to Margaret’s tent.

He knocked on the door. “Go away Pierce,” she snapped. 

He sighed and sat on the rocks outside her tent and set his head against a support beam. He could hear her moving around in there, once again ignoring her bed rest. He wrapped his hand up in the chain around his neck and tugged again. He sat there, listening as she moved around inside. He knocked on the door again from his place on the ground. 

“What do you want?” she asked as she opened the door. She looked surprised to see him sitting on the ground. 

“I just want you safe, you know that right? I didn’t say it to hurt you.” 

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” Her hands were on her stomach and Hawk reached up and held her hand. 

“I’m sorry.” He stared at their rings glinting together in the sunlight and a small smile came to his face. Margaret followed his gaze to her stomach. “Elaine.” 

“Come inside,” she said. “Help me pack.” She helped pull him to his feet with a wince. 

Hawkeye stepped inside and pulled Margaret into his arms. “Should I take the stateside post if your dad can get it for me? I’ve been here for almost three years. Why don’t I have my points? Why are you and I not home already? We should be home!” 

“Do you want a stateside post? It’ll take longer to get points.” 

“I should have the points already, Margaret. So should you. I just want to go home and scrub the army out of my life. I want to go see dad and— I haven’t told dad about the baby yet.” 

“Let’s write him a letter,” Margaret suggested. 

“He won’t get it until the baby’s here. I’m gonna call him, I think. Do you want to come?” Margaret held her hand out and Hawkeye pulled her to stand. He pulled her in a bit closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I love you.” 

She reached up to cup the back of his head. “I love you, too.” Her fingers twirled his hair around. 

“It feels like you’re starting something that as a doctor I can’t currently recommend for your health and the baby’s. As your husband though, normally I’d approve.” 

“I’m not starting anything,” she laughed. He looked at her with such reverence and adoration that it made her blush. 

“I’m sure,” he said, moving his hands down to cup her butt. 

Margaret yelped as Hawk pinched her and she slapped a hand against his chest. “What happened to starting things you don’t recommend?” 

“You’re just so gorgeous, I can’t help myself,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Let’s go call dad. I need to brag to him about my gorgeous wife.” He grabbed her hand and led her to Radar’s office, holding the door open for her to step inside. 

“Oh my god, Radar?” Radar was sitting on his bunk, curled up against the wall with his teddy bear. Tears were streaming down his face. “Radar, what’s wrong?” Margaret squatted down in front of him. 

“My uncle Ed died,” he mumbled into the bear. “Colonel Potter got a wire.” 

Hawk sunk down to the bed with him. “I’m so sorry, Radar. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. My mom’s— The funeral’s tomorrow and all of Ottumwa’s gonna be there except me. Our neighbor Mr Whitsett said he would look after the farm ’til everything’s settled. Then Mom can take over for herself. She says it’s about time she gets off her fat you-know-what anyway.” 

“So you’re going home?” Margaret asked. 

“I don’t know. I think maybe, but—” He spaced out, staring at the wall. 

“Radar are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, I don’t wanna be but I guess I have to be. I’m the man of the family now.” 

Margaret moved herself to Radar’s other side on the bed and pulled him into her arms. “It’s alright to not be okay, Radar.” 

Radar leaned into her and Hawkeye rubbed circles on his back as he began to cry. “Colonel Potter told me to type up a DA-7 hardship discharge but how can I leave you guys here alone? But if I don’t go home, what’s going to happen to my ma?” 

“Take the discharge, Radar. Some of us can only dream of going home.” 

“And if I go home, what about you, Major? Who’s gonna get your supplies for you? Klinger’s taking over for me. I just— I’ve got some pretty good trades incoming for your fruit but what if it’s not enough and Klinger has to take over trying to get trades? I’ve got so many trades in place.” 

“Radar,” Margaret said, “don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine here. Your mother needs you.” 

Radar sat up and wiped at his eyes. “I’m still gonna worry. You guys are like my family you know? If I’m going home, you have to promise you’ll wire me my portion of the pot if I win the due date bets.” 

“You guys are already placing bets?” 

“Captain Hunnicutt and I have had bets this whole time. He’s been winning so far but I think the due date pot is gonna be mine. We’re splitting it. Twenty percent goes to the pot winner, the other eighty to you guys and the baby. The camp started betting after that colonel spilled the beans though. There’s bets as far out as May and as early as five weeks from now.” 

“Yeah? What about sex?” 

“Most people are betting on a boy but I’m betting on a girl. So did Captain Hunnicutt and Father Mulcahy. And Klinger bet on a boy but he’s hoping for a girl ‘cause I think he wants to make her clothes. He’s already started sewing. The Klinger Collection is on standby.” Radar wiped his glasses on his shirt and stood up, maneuvering himself from Hawk and Margaret’s arms. “What do you guys need?” 

“Right now, to make sure you’re okay,” Hawk said, following Radar to the desk. “Anything else can wait.” 

“I just need to feel useful right now. Please.” 

Hawk leaned against the desk. “We were gonna try and call my dad, tell him about the wedding and the baby.” 

“I can do that,” Radar said. “I can do that. Give me a second.” He started flipping switches and sat down, phone in hand. “Sparky? It’s Radar. Yeah I still want the fruits. Listen, can you send a call through to the states for me? Maine. Yeah, alright.” Radar pulled the phone away from his mouth. “He said to give him a minute and he’ll try and clear a line.” The trio sat in comfortable silence until Radar sat back up straight. “Maine? Crabapple Cove. I’m trying to reach Doctor Daniel Pierce.” He handed over the phone to Hawkeye. “They’re connecting you.” 

Hawk took the phone and replaced Radar in the chair. “We’re really gonna miss you, Radar. I’ll catch you stateside, okay?”

“I’ll see you sirs,” he said, pushing out into the compound. 

“Poor kid,” Hawk murmured as the door closed behind him. “At least he’s going— Dad? Hi. It’s so good to hear you, too.” Margaret moved over to the desk and sat on Hawk’s lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got someone I want you to say hi to. Margaret Houlihan-Pierce.” Hawk looked down at Margaret before throwing his head back and cackling. “Yeah, I married Hot Lips, dad.” Margaret slapped his chest with a glare and Hawk leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah here she is.” 

“No,” she whispered, taking the phone as Hawk pushed it into her hand. “Hello, Mr Pierce. Yes, this is Margaret. How’d he convince me to marry him?” She gave Hawk a wicked smile. “Well he got me pregnant, sir.” Hawk’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Well yes, sir, I would think a doctor would know better.” Hawkeye grabbed for the phone and Margaret leaned out of his reach. “Around April 24th. Yes I know it’s the middle of February. Oh the fifteenth?” She turned to Hawk. “Did you realize yesterday was Valentine’s Day? We got married on Valentine’s Day. How cliché. Well Mr Pierce, we’re hoping the police action ends soon and we can go home. I can’t wait to meet you. No, I’m staying in Korea until Hawk gets discharged. I’d love to go to Maine, sir, but I want Hawk to be there for the birth more. Yes, of course. I’ll give you back to Benny.” She handed the phone back to Hawk and smiled as she leaned back on his shoulder. 

“Dad? They’re gonna tell us to get off the line soon. I love you. I’m counting the days ’til we’re back home. I love you.” He set the phone back in the cradle and wrapped his arms around Margaret. “So that wasn’t so bad, huh?” 

“I like your dad,” she said. “He seems sweet.” She wrapped her arms around Hawk and nuzzled her head into the side of his neck. “I can’t wait to meet him. You, me, and the baby.”

_____

“Charles and I have talked about it and we’re both okay with Margaret moving into that spare cot in the Swamp if she wants it. We can help move things over.”

Would Margaret want to move into the Swamp? They weren’t exactly clean, but where else could she go? The back room at Rosie’s? He looked between the two in OR. “I’ll ask her.” The stress of the last couple of days was getting to him. He stayed quiet as he worked, only asking for instruments. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since the night before they’d been found out. He supposed it was just a taste of what would happen once the baby came until the other officers cornered him in the scrub room. 

“Pierce, you’re looking exhausted. Why don’t you go rest up?” 

He wrestled his gown off and tossed it towards the laundry basket. “Can’t. I have to move Margaret out today so Bigelow can move in.” His hands were shaking as he sat down and leaned back against the wall. “I have to ask her if she wants to move into the Swamp. What if she doesn’t want to? Then where will she go? Where will we go?” 

“You want me to go ask her about the Swamp, Hawk? I’ll go do that, you rest up for a few before so you can get the energy to finish undressing yourself.” 

Hawk heaved himself to his feet and stepped on the scrub bottoms to pull them off. “I can do it,” he said. His balance was off and BJ reached out to catch him. 

“Pierce,” Charles started. “It would be more beneficial to both you and Margaret if you were to get the proper rest you need. Hunnicutt and I can find enough people to move Margaret’s things over to our tent.” 

Hawk stared at Charles, contemplating his words. He sunk down onto the bench and played down across it’s length. “I’ll help you all as soon as I can, I promise.” He fell asleep to the sounds of shuffling clothing.

_____

Hawk woke up to Margaret kneeling beside him. “C’mon, Hawk. You have to wake up or you won’t sleep tonight. It’s almost time for your post-op shift.”

“If I’ve got you in my tent all night, I don’t know how I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled. “Knowing you’re that close to me and I can’t do anything about it?” He opened his eyes and was met with Margaret’s chest at eye level. “Wow what a view to wake up to.” 

Margaret rocked back onto her heels and stood up. “C’mon Benny,” she teased. “Wakey wakey.” 

Hawk sat up and leaned back against the wall. “You’re beautiful, you know.” She blushed. “No, I mean it! You’re the tops, babe.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “You’re the tops, jr. My two favorite girls.” 

“It could just as easily be a boy.” 

“Yeah, but it won’t be,” Hawk said. “I’m sure of it.” He rest his hand on Margaret’s stomach and smiled as the baby rolled against his hand. “How do you feel?” 

“Tired, mostly. They’ve moved all my stuff over to the swamp.” 

“All of it?” Hawk rubbed at his eyes and yawned. “I told them I’d help them. They’re doing it for me.” 

“They got a whole bunch of people to help. It was done in no time. Bigelow’s already moved in.” 

Hawk pulled Margaret down onto his lap. She adjusted herself to straddle him and Hawk smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What? I’m just getting comfortable.” 

“Oh, sure, sure.” His hands rested on her hips. “How are you really feeling?” 

“I think you can figure it out,” she said. 

“I’m sure I could. Except you’re supposed to be on bedrest.” 

“I’m sure you’re not against scrub rooms. I know this because we’ve been in a similar position right over there,” she said, gesturing to the sink. “And there.” To the wall. “And over there.” 

“Yes, I get your point. My point, however, is that I’m not going to do anything that could send you into labor again. You know that. Check back in two months,” he said. 

“These two months won’t be able to go fast enough,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. She kissed down his neck and bit a bruise just below his collarbone. “Careful Margaret. You just might make me out of uniform. Damage of government property, blah blah blah.” 

“Damage of my property, you mean.” She pulled the collar of his shirt down a little farther and kissed and bit her way across his chest. Hawk’s skin flushed under her ministrations but he held back any noises. “C’mon Hawk, let me hear you. I know you’re holding back.” 

“Nope, this has no effect on me whatsoever.” 

Margaret sat up and looked at his flushed face. “I’m sure. Just don’t worry about me. Let me take care of you.” 

BJ’s voice rang from behind the curtain. “You guys decent in there?” 

“Trying not to be.” Margaret stood up. “Hawk’s being difficult.” 

“Sounds like you’re being the difficult one. Bed rest, remember?” He eased the curtain aside. “Hawk, it’s almost time for your shift.”

“Bed rest is exhausting, you know. I do nothing all day.” 

“You’re walking around. That’s more than some women get,” Hawk pointed out. 

“And a lot less than I usually get. I’m used to running around all day and bossing nurses around and dealing with your antics. I don’t know how to relax.” 

“I know how you’re trying to relax and much as I’d love to oblige, as your doctor, it goes against my morals to put anyone in harm’s way. That’s why I’m so against this war, you know. Too many people being put in danger.” 

“As my husband, sex shouldn’t be against your morals,” she said. “But I’ll stop propositioning you. Watch out though. Once the baby’s here, I’m getting what I want.” 

“I look forward to it,” Hawkeye grinned. 

BJ stood against the curtain. “I’m not sure I should be hearing this. Shift’s soon, Hawk.” He turned and walked out. 

Hawkeye grinned. “He hasn’t even heard the worst of your mouth yet.” 

“And he won’t get to,” Margaret said. “Get to work.” 

Hawk stood up, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll see you in a few hours. I love you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“I love you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated mature after the page break!!

Father Mulcahy had taken to sitting in the Swamp with Margaret when his schedule permitted it. She was often still alone during surgery sessions, but otherwise there was almost always at least one person with her. Sometimes they sat in silence, reading. Sometimes Margaret would knit and Father Mulcahy would crochet— “It was easier for me to pick up on”— and they slowly began to make clothing. Margaret made a few for the baby but she knew Klinger had been stockpiling for them. Mostly they made hats and mittens for the children at the orphanage. 

“Father—”

“Please, Margaret. I must insist that you call me Francis.” 

“Francis, do you get as sick of sitting with me as I am of sitting? It’s been over a month and all I’ve done is knit or read. I’ve read all my books, I’ve read Charles’s, I’ve read through Hawkeye’s magazines— debauched as they may be there are some genuinely intriguing article sometimes— and I’m just tired of sitting. Who knew it could be so exhausting? And the doctors are all being hard asses and making sure I don’t do anything more strenuous than folding laundry. I’m just tired of it!” 

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll all be worth it once the baby finally arrives.” Of course he could only see the good side of things. 

“I’m sure it will be, but right now, I’m just ready for him to be here.” 

“You think it’s a boy then? My money’s on it being a girl.” 

“So is Hawkeye’s,” she said. “He’s sure of it. I just want it out of me and healthy.” 

Francis eased the ribbon of his bible between the pages and gently closed it. “Would you like to go for a walk, Margaret? I think there’s edible food in the mess tent today and I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” 

Margaret leaned out of the dentist chair and stood up, wrapping Hawk’s cardigan around her. “Anything to get out of here. Half the time I eat in here because the boys bring it to me rather than letting me walk to the mess tent. The farthest I’ve walked is to the latrine and back. The latrine isn’t exciting. They even brought me a garbage pail to throw up in so I didn’t have to make the trip too often.” 

“Well today’s food shouldn’t make you too nauseated. Shall we go?” He held out his arm and Margaret smiled, looping her arm in his. It was the beginning of March and the air wasn’t quite cool enough for the cardigan but every so often the wind blew in cold. Margaret stepped aside as Father Mulcahy opened the door for her and she caught Hawkeye walking towards her as she stepped into the mess tent. 

“Surprise!” 

Margaret stumbled back a bit, running into Hawkeye as she did. The mess tent was decorated in green, white, and yellow streamers. A ‘Welcome Baby’ sign hung up opposite the door. “Did you know about this?” she asked Hawk, who was looking around with a smile. 

“I had no idea,” he said. “Beej brought me over for lunch from post-op. I’m starting to think this was either a set up or there’ll be someone else getting a spontaneous wedding soon.” 

Kellye came forward with Klinger by her side. “C’mon Major, we’ve got your seat right here.” She grabbed Margaret’s hands in hers and led her to the seat of honor. 

“C’mon Cap,” Klinger said. “You’re right next to her.” 

“Klinger? Thank you. I know you had a big hand in making this happen.” 

Klinger smiled. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m just trade and requisitions. Kellye and BJ were the masterminds behind it. I’ve never even been to a baby shower before.” 

Hawk plucked at the pocket of Klinger’s fatigues. “And you’re not even dressed for the occasion. Pity. I miss your outrageous outfits.” 

“It’s not very clerkly, you know. But I’ll keep it in mind.” He gestured to Hawkeye’s seat. “Your seat, my liege.” 

Hawk slid into place, leaning into Margaret. He was out of his element as were, he assumed, all of the other men here, but Margaret’s face was beaming, so he was happy. 

“Sorry we don’t have anything but army food for lunch, Major, but we managed to get a cake for you.” Kellye handed over an opened can of fruit and Margaret laughed. 

“Call me Margaret, Lieutenant,” Margaret said with a smile. “And this is fine.” She grabbed the fruit. “Preferred, actually.” She turned to Hawkeye. “Do you have a fork?” 

“Oh, yes, just let me pull one out of my ass, Margaret.” 

She scowled at him and the smirk on his face. “You could have just said no,” she grumbled, reaching into the can. Everyone in the mess tent ate together, gentle conversation flowing throughout the tent. Margaret had only been to one baby shower back home, and this was so different, but it was so Margaret. It was more than she’d ever expected. Her closest friends and her new family with her husband by her side all gathered together to celebrate her baby. 

BJ sat down beside Margaret with a tray of food. “So what do you think?” 

“I love it,” Margaret said, leaning her head against BJ’s shoulder. “Thank you all so much.” 

“It’s not much and it’s very Korea, but it’s all yours,” he said. “Wait until you try the cake. I made this one.” 

Hawkeye leaned forward on the bench to look at BJ. “So you’re saying we shouldn’t eat the cake then?” 

BJ laughed. “Peg sent me a recipe, all I did was follow it to the best of my abilities. I think I did pretty okay.” 

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t eat the cake then.” Hawk said again, with a smirk. “No really, thanks Beej.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Margaret loved this feeling; she wanted to be able to bottle it up for forever. A fork was pressed into her hand— “thanks, BJ”— and she looked around at the full tables. Everyone was smiling and joking and it was the most relaxed she’d seen most of the people here. 

“Once you’re finished eating, we got gifts for you.” 

“You got gifts?” 

“Of course! What kind of baby shower would it be without gifts?” BJ finished his food and pushed away his tray, laughing as Margaret ate her fruit just a bit faster. 

Hawk stole the fork from her hand and ate a piece— pears today, it seemed and laughed when Margaret looked at him affronted. His honking laugh filled the tent and everyone turned to look at him, smiling when they saw the tableau in front of them; Hawk’s head was thrown back in laughter, Margaret’s hands on her hips, her lips pursed in contempt, and BJ’s face was curled into a cheesy grin. 

“That was the last one, Pierce!” 

“Uh-uh, not my name,” he said, grinning. 

“Houlihan-Pierce is too long for scolding, _Benjamin_.” 

“I love when you say my name, darling.” He propped his head on his hands and gazed lovingly at her until her glare broke. 

“I can’t take you seriously like that,” she said. 

“That was my intention,” he said. “Break you with my everlasting love and adoration.” 

Margaret’s cheeks flushed a bit but she set her empty can on top of BJ’s tray. “I’m done now I suppose. Even though I didn’t finish it.” 

BJ stood up. “Alright, everybody! Ready your presents.” 

People pulled out gifts from under the tables and Margaret looked around. She suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed. Hawk grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly. 

The nurses came forward with a small pile of presents. “These are from all of us. We all pitched in a bit,” Bigelow said. “And this one—” She pulled out another present. “—is from me.” 

Margaret eased the presents towards them and set them in front of Hawkeye, grabbing Bigelow’s present first. She eased the tape off the paper and pulled it apart at the seams.   
“Margaret, paper is for ripping, come on!” Hawkeye teased. 

She unwrapped the paper and tossed it at Hawkeye who, for all of his heckling, carefully lined up the edges and neatly folded the paper. She unfolded a set of overalls embroidered with Future Head Nurse on the front. “Oh, Peggy, I love it,” she said, turning it around for everyone to see. 

“My bet’s on a girl, so don’t make me lose, Major.” Bigelow stepped back, smiling as Margaret traced the embroidery with her fingers. 

“Did you do this yourself?” 

“Of course. Nothing but the best for our Major’s minor,” she said, stealing Hawk’s own joke. It made his eyes twinkle and a small smile cross his lips. “And Hawkeye’s I guess.” 

Margaret laid the overalls in front of BJ and reached for another present, unfolding the paper just as she did with the first one. A set of onesies were rolled up inside. Margaret unrolled them and laid them out. They were plain colors— solid yellows and whites— but they were so soft and beautiful. “Thank you guys so much.” Her fingers trailed along the fabric and she thought back. Had she really done enough for her nurses to deserve this? “Thank you.” 

Hawk snatched up the next present, something in a box. 

“Before you open that, Hawkeye— Margaret this one is for you to open— they kind of go together.” Nurse Able handed over the big box from the bottom of the pile, sliding the last package off from it. 

Margaret untied the knot holding her box closed while Hawk carefully unwrapped the paper and folded it back up for Margaret. “Bottles,” he said, holding up the box. Margaret looked over at the bottles and stood up, easing her gift from its box. A breast pump?

“It’s for when mommy and daddy need some time alone,” Able said. “That way someone else can feed the baby.” 

“I’ll be using that right off,” Margaret mumbled. Hawk laughed and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you guys. This is really more than I deserve, more than either of us do.” 

“One more from us and then we’ll give up the floor.” 

Margaret grabbed the package and peeled up the tape, unwrapping it— a pair of receiving blankets. “I’ll definitely use these,” she said, “all of these. Thank you.” She packed the presents into the breast pump box and Hawk picked it up, moving it behind them. 

“I’m next,” Klinger said, easing a big box on the table. “These are for you, Major. And the present for the baby will come later.” Margaret, intrigued, stood up and unfolded the flaps of the box, opening it— lots of fabric, not that she’d expect anything less from Klinger. “Take some out.” 

Margaret lifted up a shirt and held it up to herself. “Oh Klinger, it’s beautiful.” 

“I’m sick of seeing you in those olive drab oversized shirts, Major. These are cute! They’re fashionable! They’re not green! There’s some shirts, a few dresses, and a few pairs of pants. I hope I never see you in olive drab again, but I’ll take at least until the baby gets here.” 

“You made these all for me?” 

“I repurposed the fabric from some of my old dresses. I figure I’m not getting use out of them anymore; someone should.” 

Margaret traced the stitching on the shirt with her thumb before setting it aside and rooting through the box. She recognized most of these. “You cut up the Klinger Collection?” 

“Just some of it. I still have some of my favorites.” 

Margaret sunk back into her seat, holding the shirt out in front of her. “They’re beautiful,” she said. She traced the pattern with her fingers. She swiped at a tear before it could leave her eye. “Really, Klinger. Thank you.” 

Hawk took that box and set it behind them, rooting through it on the floor. 

BJ stood up and maneuvered around the boxes to go behind the serving line and pull out a box of his own. “This one is from me, Charles, Colonel Potter, and Father Mulcahy,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll get good use out of it. Hawk you wanna help me out here?” 

Hawk went over and picked up one end of the box— “holy shit that’s heavy” “It’s a big present”— and carried it over to the middle of the tent. 

“Alright Margaret,” BJ said. “Once you untie the string, it _should_ collapse the box. So step back once you untie it.” 

Margaret came out from her spot at the table and walked over to the box. She leaned over the box to tug at the knot, her stomach getting in the way. She unwound the knot and stepped back, releasing the sides of the box. 

“A crib,” she breathed. “You got me a crib?” 

“Of course. You didn’t think we’d let her go without a place to sleep, did you?” 

Margaret ran her hands over the wicker siding. A soft cotton pad laid on the inside. Margaret wiped tears from her eyes. “I love it. I really do.” She pulled BJ into a hug. “Thank you so much.” Colonel Potter, Charles and Francis each got a hug too. “Can we cut into the cake before I start crying too much?” She joked, wiping off her cheeks. 

“Well hold on, there’s one more gift for you guys.” BJ grabbed another, smaller box from behind the serving table. “This one’s from Radar.” 

Margaret looked up at BJ and the box in his hands and took it from him, setting it gently on the table. The box was tied with some twine and she played with the ends. “Hawkeye do you want to open it?” 

He came over and looked at the box before grabbing the twine and unraveling it, setting it aside on the table. He eased the box open and his brow furrowed as he pulled out Radar’s gift— his teddy bear. “Oh,” he breathed. His face was red from holding back tears. “He gave us his teddy bear.” 

“There’s a note in the box.” 

Hawk picked up the note and cleared his throat, blinking away his tears. 

_Major Houlihan and Hawkeye,_

_I’m giving you my teddy bear for your baby. I don’t think I’m going to need it back home anymore. It was my brother’s teddy bear, then mine, and now it’s your baby’s. I hope she loves it as much as I do. And I hope it helps her feel safe and comforted when the world around her becomes too much to handle._

_Because I’m sure no one else has thought of it, there’s a bunch of boxes in supply with diapers that the army requisitioned forever ago. Least that’s what it feels like. I’m sure Colonel Potter will tell you to help yourself. I don’t think he’s got much use for them._

_I hope you come back stateside soon. Come see me and Ma in Ottumwa._

_Best wishes,_

_Walter “Radar” O’Reilly_

Hawkeye sat down at the table and held the bear out in front of him. Radar must’ve been planning this for a while, he thought. This was Radar’s bear. And now it was their baby’s. A piece of cake was set down beside him and Margaret’s stomach brushed him as she walked past. She sat down and played her head on Hawk’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think it was meant to make you sad,” she said. “I think it’s sweet.” 

“It is sweet,” he said. “And so very, very Radar. I hope he’s doing well at home. We— I should write him.” He set the bear carefully back in the box and closed it up. “How are you feeling?” 

“Loved,” she said. “I didn’t even know they were planning this. Usually no one can keep secrets in this camp and I didn’t catch any word of this before now. I didn’t even suspect—” 

“You _are_ loved,” Hawk said. “I didn’t suspect anything either. You spend most of your time in the Swamp—”

“Not by choice.”

“—so it makes sense that you wouldn’t have heard it but I spend a lot of time in the compound and I haven’t heard anything either. I didn’t even think about what we’d do when she got here. I just— sometimes it still doesn’t even seem real. Holy shit, we're going to have a baby in— what a month?” 

“Yeah just about. But that means I’ve only got about a week before my doctor mandated celibacy can cease,” she said, pressing a kiss to Hawkeye’s neck. “I’ll be full term by then.” 

“You’re going to make my life a living hell if BJ and I don’t agree to lift the bed rest thing, huh?” 

“Oh absolutely,” she said. "I haven’t had any contractions in a month and granted you haven’t checked recently, but I don’t think my cervix has dilated any more. You’re free to check any time.” 

Hawk’s eyes glazed over for a second before he turned and looked at her. “You always say I’m a menace, but you’re no better, Mrs Menace.” 

“Menace Houlihan-Pierce at your service,” she said, taking a bite of her cake. “Oh this is good. Don’t tell BJ.” 

“Don’t tell BJ what?” BJ said, walking up to the table. 

“She likes your cake,” Hawk said. “And also she’s propositioning me. I think she’s just using me for my body.” 

“Is that true Margaret? Are you just using him for his body?” 

Margaret smiled around a forkful of cake. “Of course,” she said. “It’s one of the best things about him.” “About a week from now, it’ll probably be best for you and Charles to avoid the Swamp, providing she gets her own way medically.”

_____

And she did. 

Hawkeye finished her exam in post-op and said she wasn’t dilated any more than she was a month prior. “Actually I think it’s _less_ dilated.” 

“Maybe you were just too frantic last time you checked.” 

Hawkeye stood up and eased the glove off. “I’m never frantic.” Margaret arched an eyebrow at him. “Alright, I was frantic. But I do think your cervix has contracted, at least a little bit.” 

Margaret grinned and grabbed her underwear off the exam table, shoving them in Hawk’s pocket. “That’s good for you and great for me,” she said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in between her legs. “It’s been too long.” 

“Let’s go back to the Swamp,” Hawk murmured against her lips. “We’ll lock the door and I can give you all the attention you deserve.” 

Margaret reached down and massaged Hawk through his pants. “Why wait? Let me feel you.”

Hawk eased Margaret back on the exam table and wrapped his arms around her leg, pulling her to the edge. “I’m going to taste you like I’ve wanted to for months. You have to promise to tell me if anything feels even slightly off, okay?” He eased her dress back up over her hips. “Promise.”

“Yes, I promise.” 

Hawk leaned down and pressed wet, open mouthed kisses against Margaret’s thighs. She sighed softly, her back curving off the table. Her fingers traced along the sheet they’d laid down as Hawk kissed along her thighs, her hips, along the underside of her stomach. Hawk’s kisses teased closer and closer but he started moving away before he could actually taste her. 

“Hawkeye,” she whined indignantly. “Stop teasing.” 

“I’m not teasing,” he defended, “I’m prolonging.” He spread her lips with his fingers and dipped his tongue against her clit, making her jump. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, Margaret. I’m starving.” His breath was hot against her as he lapped at her dripping cunt. Margaret whined as he began to fuck her earnestly with his tongue. 

Her hips began to push back against his face and her hand held his head in place. She fucked herself on his tongue, her hips grinding down against him as he tasted her. “Oh yeah,” he groaned against her. “Fuck me, Margaret.” 

She propped herself on her hands, riding against Hawkeye’s face. His mouth sucked her clit into his mouth and she gasped, her hips stuttering. His fingers slipped inside her cunt and began to fuck her as his tongue rolled against her clit. 

“Hawkeye,” she moaned breathlessly. “I’m close.” 

His fingers sped up inside her and he sucked harder until her head fell back. She was gasping as she tried to stay quiet. Her hips stopped moving as they fell back against the sheet and Hawkeye cleaned her up, his tongue starting to send her body into overstimulation. He rocked back, his hair messy, his mouth and chin wet. 

“Hi,” he said, his eyes hooded. 

“You’re a mess,” Margaret said, looking at his wet face. 

“If you don’t get messy, you’re not doing it right.” He eased his fingers to his mouth and sucked them in, his tongue dancing around to clean every bit of her off. “I think we can get messier. You wanna go back to the Swamp?” 

Margaret sat up, easing her dress back down and grabbed the sheet, wiping Hawk’s mouth off. “Absolutely.”


	7. Chapter 7

The next week had dragged by. Margaret still wasn’t allowed to do anything strenuous but she’d been given a lot more freedom. She wanted to clean. She _needed_ to clean. The Swamp had already been cleaned and reorganized much to the displeasure of her husband. She’d washed all their clothes, folded them, darned socks even, but it still wasn’t enough. 

“Good afternoon, Margret! How are you feeling today?” 

Margaret yanked BJ’s blankets from where they were tucked in and straightened them out, folding them back under. “Agitated,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to get anything right. It’s not—” She looked at Francis’s knowing smile. “What?” 

“You’re nesting. Could mean the baby’s coming.” 

Margaret adjusted BJ’s pillow. “He’s not,” she said grumpily. “I feel fine. Do you have anything I can clean or organize? I need something to do. I’m going crazy just sitting around and this place isn’t getting any cleaner.” “It’s much cleaner than Hawkeye or BJ have ever had it. Major Winchester tends to be considerably more tidy, however. You’ve done a great job.” Francis wandered over to Margaret’s corner. “You’ve made a beautiful place for the baby over here.” He ran his fingers over the crib. “Oh, that’s the blanket I made,” he said softly. 

“Of course. You’ve done so much for me and Hawkeye. Besides, it’s a beautiful blanket.” Margaret adjusted the blanket and unfolded the crumpled corner.

“Would you like to go for a walk, Margaret? Maybe it’ll take your mind off cleaning.” 

Margaret grabbed Hawkeye’s cardigan from her footlocker and pulled it on, wrapping it around her. “Let’s go. Maybe I can find something to do.” She held her arm out and wrapped it around Francis’s. “Where are we going?” 

“Well we can go to the mess tent, if you’d like. Have you eaten yet?” 

“No,” Margaret said, “But I’m not all that hungry.” She laid her free hand on her stomach as they stepped out of the tent. “I’m running out of room anyway.” 

The mess tent was crowded; everyone had gathered for lunch. “Here,” Francis said, leading her to a table, “let’s sit here.” She sat on one side of BJ, Father Mulcahy slipped in the bench on the other side of him. 

“How’re you feeling, Margaret?” 

“Pregnant,” she groused. “Tired, anxious, achy. But not bad.” She looked at BJ and her lips quirked up into a smile. “Father Mulcahy thinks I’m nesting; I think I’m just cleaning up after my husband and his messy tent mates.” 

“Father?” BJ said turning to Francis. “What do you think?” 

“I think my original bet may be a bit off,” he said. “We’ll see. Think you can hold out until the 30th, Margaret?” 

Margaret leaned tiredly against BJ’s shoulder. “I hope not.” 

BJ wrapped his arm around Margaret’s shoulders and she leaned into his chest. “I’m in it for May 2nd.” 

“I hope you’re both wrong,” Margaret said, sitting up. “Twelve days until my due date. I’m hoping I don’t last that long. He can be born any time.” 

Colonel Potter regarded her from across the table. “You’re looking a bit flushed, Margaret.” 

“Must be from the walk over here,” she said. “It’s warmer than it has been.”

Just then, Igor walked up to the table. “Colonel Potter, sir. The kid helping me with KP got shipped out yesterday and I don’t got anyone to help me in the kitchen and Goldman just came off shift. Any way you can send someone else my way?” 

Margaret stood up quickly. “I’ll help,” she said, walking back to the kitchen. “I’ve been looking for something to do.” 

Igor watched her walk away before turning back to the table. “Anyone else? The Major scares me.” 

BJ barked out a laugh. “She’s a lot more relaxed than she was when she was still army, Igor. Now’s your best chance.” 

Igor’s eyebrows furrowed and he grimaced at the table. “Thanks,” he groaned. “Much appreciated, Captain.” He walked back to the kitchen and saw Margaret trying to tie the apron around her, a cap pulling her hair back from her face. 

“Close enough,” she said, laying it over her stomach. “Alright, Private. You’re in charge. Where do you need me?” 

Igor stared around at the things in front of him on the table. He handed her a knife and a few heads of lettuce. “Chop ‘em all up. I’ll start on the potatoes.” 

“Hard to believe this stuff ends up being… what it is,” Margaret said. 

Igor sighed. “Yeah, I could do way better any day. I’ll have to make you something some time. Once I’ve got something better than Revolutionary War surplus to work with.” 

The pair worked quickly, conversation passing easily between them. 

_Ambulance in the compound! All surgical teams report to OR. This one’s gonna be a doozy._

Margaret stared at the food in front of them. “What do we do now?” 

Igor sighed and looked at everything prepped in front of them. “We keep doing this and in a little while we start making sandwiches and juice. Goldman’s gonna be in soon anyway to help with the cooking.” He grabbed some bowls and started scraping ingredients into them, setting them back on a counter behind him. They chopped the rest of the vegetables more quickly than they had been. “We have to start making sandwiches and then prep meat. Still up for helping?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Margaret pushed all her ingredients into bowls as Igor passed them over to her. The table top was cleared off and she stared at the knife in her hand, the blade shaking. She set her hands on the table top. If they weren’t up, they weren’t shaking, and a Houlihan didn’t shake. 

Igor brought out a few loaves of bread and some jars of peanut butter. “Alright, Major. As many as you can.” This time, they worked in frantic silence. Sandwiches were slapped together and set on a tray. Someone would be in here soon to pick it up; it was nearly supper time. Goldman walked through and grumbled about having to prep the meat even though he just woke up, as if Igor was just standing around. “He’s almost got his points,” Igor whispered conspiringly. “And then he’s out.” 

“Better food then, right?” Margaret smiled back. 

“We work with what the army gives us.” Igor tossed the last sandwich on the tray and wiped the knife down. “Alright, someone’ll be in to get them soon. Usually it’s Klinger or Father Mulcahy.” 

“I could bring them over,” Margaret said, stepping back from the table. Igor watched her for a second as her hands shook to pull the apron off. He stepped around the table and pulled a stool up behind her. 

“How ‘bout you just sit tight, Major? Someone will be here soon enough. Now when’s the last time you ate something?” Margaret leaned back on the stool, thinking. “It’s taking you too long to remember. I’m gonna make you something.” Igor pushed back to the stoves and turned them on, grabbing some meat Goldman had carved off. He tossed it into the pan and walked over to the fridge pouring some juice. “Drink up.” 

Francis walked into the kitchen and regarded Margaret with a warm smile until he saw how pale she was. “Margaret, are you feeling alright?” 

Margaret nodded but Igor piped up, his back turned to them. “Don’t lie Major.” 

She glared at Igor’s back. “I’m alright, Francis. Just a little shaky.” 

“Margaret, you need to eat,” Francis reprimanded with a soft voice. “What can I get you?” 

“I’m cookin’ her up something to eat, Father. I’ll make sure she eats it.” 

“I’ll bring her out to the mess tent,” Francis said, grabbing her hands. He looked to Margaret. “There’s more room for you out there and it’s not quite as hot.” He was patient as she stood up and walked slowly to the mess. She was more tired than she remembered, but she was placed as a table, juice in front of her. “Why haven’t you eaten, Margaret?” 

“I wasn’t hungry and then I forgot about it. It’s perfectly normal for that to happen,” she defended. 

“Perhaps.” Francis sat at the table across from her. His purple stole was draped over his shoulders and a white cap was on his head. It had probably been a couple of hours since the announcement and people were starting to get tired and hungry. “But that doesn’t mean it’s healthy, Margaret. I know you know that. It’s nearly suppertime and you haven’t eaten yet today.” 

“I just forgot,” she said, looking down at the table. Her hand snaked up and twirled a lock of hair from the nape of her neck.

Francis smiled as he watched her. “You and Hawkeye are rubbing off on each other,” he said. “You’re picking up his mannerisms.” Margaret looked up and released the lock of hair. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s nice to see. It means you spend time together. I’ve seen plenty of couples through the years that don’t spend time together, don’t truly love each other. Hawkeye would do anything for you and I’m sure you would do the same.” 

Margaret smiled. “Yeah.” She grabbed the juice and finished it off. 

“Does this marriage feel comparable to any of your other relationships throughout the years?” 

Margaret shook her head. “Not even close. Hawkeye wins hands down. It’s more than just physical attraction. I was worried about that at first. You know how he is— was.” 

“He’s much better being married to you. I truly believe that.” Francis stood up and grabbed Margaret’s cup. “I’m going to refill this.” 

Margaret sat at the table and looked out towards the compound. It was starting to warm up and the sides of the tent had been rolled up. There was nobody left in the compound which meant they’d likely be done in a few hours. 

“Here,” Francis said, startling Margaret. “Sorry.” He had a sheepish smile on his face. “Drink up.” He handed the cup over and Margaret held it in her hands. He had the tray of sandwiches in his hands. “I’m going to bring this to the OR and I’ll be back.” 

Margaret felt like she was being babysat but she nodded and took a sip from her cup. The camp was too quiet; it was unnerving. Igor pushed through the from the kitchen carrying a tray of food and set it in front of Margaret. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing at the fork. “It looks edible. Are you sure it’s army food?” 

“Cooked it myself,” Igor said grinning. “I gotta get back to the kitchen. Eat up, Major.” 

Margaret picked at the food. It was better than anything she’d had at the 4077th so far but she truly wasn’t hungry. She cleared the tray— it was definitely delicious; too bad Igor wasn’t the regular cook— and pushed it out in front of her. 

She was tired. She’d always been taught to stay hydrated growing up, that dehydration in the field could be deadly, and yet she’d spent the last third of her pregnancy nearly constantly dehydrated. 

Margaret’s head ached. She was cold. Her stomach hurt—likely from eating too much on a too long empty stomach. She laid down and propped her feet up on the bench, closing her eyes. She’d rest for a bit here before everyone finished in surgery and then she’d do… whatever… She was too tired to think about it now. 

“Margaret. Margaret, wake up.” Francis was shaking her awake. “Margaret?” 

“I’m trying to rest. Leave me alone!” she snapped. 

Francis stepped back. “It’s late, Margaret. You fell asleep after eating. Are you feeling okay? The doctors are nearly done surgery.”

“I’m fine,” she said dismissively. 

Francis recoiled. “Alright, Major,” he snubbed, walking back out of the tent. 

Margaret closed her eyes and fell back asleep to the sounds of personnel entering for supper, sluggish and drowsy after surgery. Hawkeye was there when she woke up. “I don’t know what you said to Francis,” he stared, “but you really upset him. Sit up, you’ve got more water to drink.” 

Margaret shifted in her seat, sitting up to lean against Hawkeye. Everything ached— her neck was stiff, her shoulders. She winced. BJ and Colonel Potter regarded her carefully from across the table. 

“You feeling okay, Margaret?” BJ asked.

“I’m so sick of people asking me that! I’m fine!” The tent was silent. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Hawkeye put a hand on her forehead. “How long have you had a fever?” he asked. He set down his fork and turned to her. “Look at me.” Margaret turned and looked at Hawkeye. Her face was flushed. “You’re tired?” She nodded. “Achy, headache?” Another nod. “Chills?” Margaret had wrapped Hawkeye’s cardigan tighter around herself. She nodded. 

“Influenza,” Colonel Potter remarked. “Drink your water. You can’t be getting dehydrated.” 

“She already is,” Hawk said. “Drink up, Margaret and we’ll go hook you up on some fluids. Getting dehydrated _and_ sick could be trouble for you and the baby. Igor said you almost passed out in the kitchen earlier.” 

“Snitch,” Margaret mumbled, pulling the cup to her lips. 

Hawkeye finished his food as Margaret nursed her water. “Come on, darling. If I can swallow down this slop, you can drink your water.” 

“Stop it,” Margaret snapped. She glared at Hawkeye and he set his fork back on his tray.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. He rest his head on his hand and his fingers tugged on his hair. 

“Stop that too.” Margaret looked at his hair, wild around his fingers. Hawk sat back up and pushed a bit closer to Charles, his leg bouncing under the table. Margaret glared at him but didn’t say anything and Hawkeye’s eyes were tired as he watched her sip her water. He didn’t say anything anymore. He just sat and listened to the conversation around them, not really listening. 

“Pierce, are you alright?” Charles questioned, his voice low, as Hawkeye’s leg bounced faster. “Pierce?” 

Hawk looked at him. “Oh fine,” he said, stopping his leg from bouncing. His body tensed up until he let his leg bounce again. “Peachy.” Everyone was staring at him. He could feel their eyes on him— everyone’s except Margaret. 

Margaret set her cup down and stood up. “You stay,” she said, pointing at Hawkeye. “I’m going to the latrine. I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Hawkeye nodded and stared at the table, pushing over to fill into Margaret’s empty seat. “Sorry,” he mumbled to Charles. He reached up to tug at his hair and his hands shook as he pulled them away and set them in his lap. 

BJ was looking between Hawkeye and just past Hawkeye when he stood up and ran out. Hawkeye’s blood ran cold. He turned around and watched as BJ rushed over to Margaret, swatting him away while collapsed on the ground. He went to stand up but Charles stopped him, his hand on Hawkeye’s arm. 

“Calm yourself down first. Hunnicutt’s got her.” Charles glanced over his shoulder again. “And she’s letting him have it. Oh, and he’s yelling right back at her.”

Hawkeye smiled tiredly. 

“I just tripped!” 

“Over _nothing_ , Margaret. Don’t lie to me!” 

“I’ll cough on you, Hunnicutt, don’t make me.” 

“Ooh,” Charles said. “He’s Hunnicutt again.” 

Hawkeye turned around to look at BJ and Margaret in the compound. Margaret always stood taller than her actual height. Hawk stood up from the table, his hands bunching up the lining of his pockets as he walked to the fighting pair. “Beej, let her go to the bathroom,” he said softly, keeping his eyes away from Margaret’s gaze. She was mad at him and he didn’t want her to yell at him anymore. She stormed off to the latrine and Hawk walked back to the Swamp. 

BJ followed him. “Buy you a drink?” 

Hawkeye slumped into the chair and nodded. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before she started getting mean again,” he said. “The baby improved her mood for a while though.” Hawk gulped from his glass. “It was only a matter of time before—” He trailed off and shook his head. 

“Before?” 

“Before she got sick of me.” Hawk reached up for his hair with one hand and played with it. It was far more gentle than he had been in the mess but he sighed and dropped his hand to his lap. Margaret would be mad at him. 

“Hawk, you can play with your hair. I won’t tell,” BJ said with a wink. 

Hawkeye just drained his drink, leaned back, and set his martini glass on his thigh. 

“It’s not you. She’s not sick of you, Hawk.” BJ tried to meet Hawk’s gaze but Hawk kept averting his eyes. “She’s just sick. Sick of being pregnant and sick with the flu. Plus, it’s not like she wasn’t… abrasive… before she got pregnant.”

“Abrasive… yeah,” Hawk said. “I’m not sure she liked me. What if she just did all this out of some sense of obligation? That she thought I was obligated to… She could have stayed with Donald. I would have loved her from afar. I would give her anything even if she doesn’t love me— anything except a proper salute.” 

The door opened. “You think I don’t love you?” Hawkeye pushed back into his seat as Margaret approached him. He passed his empty glass off to BJ. “You think I married you because I thought we had to?” 

“Sometimes,” Hawk said, his voice low. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Look at me,” she ordered. Margaret sat on the edge of Hawkeye’s cot. “Please?” 

His eyes darted up to hers before looking at her lips instead. “I love you. I do. Even if you are a huge pain in the ass and you’re not army and you’re a bit of a slob.” 

“True love,” BJ remarked with a grin. 

“Zip it,” she said, glaring at BJ. She looked back to Hawkeye and tried to move her eyes into his gaze. “Hawk?” 

Hawkeye looked away. “I love you,” he said quietly. “You should go lay down. I’ll go get a saline drip for you since you… tripped.” He stood up and walked out of the tent, walking towards the hospital. 

“He thinks you’re sick of him already. He’s also trying not to have a meltdown.” BJ watched as Margaret moved to her cot and slumped against the pillows. “You yelled at him for playing with his hair so he won’t do it anymore. I know you’re sick—”

“I’m not—”

“Stop it, Margaret. You’re sick. Fever, chills, aches; you’ve got the flu. Either way, you shouldn’t take it out on him. He’s already having trouble believing you care about him right now.” 

“But I do!” 

BJ followed Hawk’s movements back out of the hospital and towards supply. “You spent the better part of two years riling each other up and fighting. Am I really supposed to believe that it all just fixed itself?” 

“Well no, but—”

“Neither is he. He’s waiting for the other foot to drop.” 

“It didn’t fix itself. We’ve spent six months talking through things.” Margaret looked down at her stomach, her hands tracing circles. “Can we talk about this later? I’m exhausted.” 

“Don’t talk about it with me; talk about it with him.” 

Hawkeye came back in and moved silently, pulling a needle from his pocket. She held her arm out and Hawkeye eased the needle into the back of her hand, taping it in place. “Sorry,” he mumbled as she winced. Hawkeye held the bottle up and watched as it slowly drained into her IV. 

“You want me to go find something to hold that, Hawk?” BJ asked.

Hawkeye shook his head and watched the bubbles raise up in the bottle. His thumb was twitching, counting off against his thigh. His body was stiff as he stood and he shifted his weight slightly, the bottle changing hands. 

“Hawkeye?” Margaret said, looking up at him. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t—” 

“Stop,” Hawkeye said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“But I want—”

“Please.” 

Margaret stayed quiet and curled into Hawk’s sweater, pulling it tighter around her. She grabbed Hawkeye’s free hand and held it, her thumb drawing slow circles along his hand. He stepped a little closer to her and she leaned over, resting her head against his stomach. She must have fallen asleep because when she woke up, the needle was out of her hand and Hawk was half asleep standing up. His eyes were closed and his free hand was curled in his hair, drawing lazy circles. She sat up, jolting Hawk awake. “Hawk, go to bed,” she said. “What are you doing here?” 

“You fell asleep,” he said plainly. “Wasn’t— wasn’t going to move you.” 

She pressed a kiss to his palm. “Go sleep.” 

Hawkeye nodded and trudged over to his bunk, dropping himself face first into his pillow. 

“Hawkeye?” Hawk sat up and looked at Margaret. “I love you.” 

A slow grin stretched his mouth. “I love you more.” 

Margaret breathed a soft sigh and shifted, standing up. She walked across the tent, Hawkeye’s gaze following her. “I’m just going to the latrine,” she soothed. “Go to sleep.” 

Hawkeye yawned and nodded, falling asleep almost immediately.

_____

Margaret was quarantined to the Swamp, effectively on bed rest again. She was only allowed out to go to the bathroom, but that was fine by her. She was tired, so tired. Francis sat with her most days when Hawk was working— Hawk had taken the day shifts in post-op to spend time with her at night. 

“Francis,” Margaret said once she was feeling better. “I’m sorry for how I treated you in the mess tent. I was feeling unwell and it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you— on any of you.” 

“Thank you, Margaret. Consider yourself forgiven. ‘Forgive and ye shall be forgiven.’ As you said, you were feeling unwell. I know how hard this must be on you.” Francis pat her arm gently. “I’m sure when you thought of this remarkable time in your life that you didn’t expect it like this.” 

Margaret looked down at Francis’s hand on her arm and bit back a sob. “I want to go home,” she said, swallowing down the knot in her throat. “I don’t want to be in Korea anymore. I’m tired. I want to go home.” 

“The baby should be here any day now, other I might suggest we try.” 

“Where are our points, Francis? We should all be home; you, me, Klinger, Hawk— we’ve all been here so long.” Margaret took the knitting from her lap and pitched it to the side. “We’ve been here in this stupid war for three years!” 

“Margaret, instead of getting angry, maybe you can express what you’re really feeling.” 

“I’m feeling angry, Francis! You should be too!” Margaret sat up against the chair and adjusted the pillow behind her back. “We should be back home with our families! I should be in Maine right now!” 

Francis smiled gently, picking her knitting up out of the dirt and setting it on Hawkeye’s bunk. “The Margaret Houlihan of nine months ago would have done anything to say here, you know. It’s a nice change. Hawkeye has softened your edges a bit, whether you realized it or not.” 

Margaret smoothed out folds in her shirt across her stomach, frowning at a stain in the shirt. “The Margaret Houlihan of nine months ago was in a loveless marriage with a cheating whore of a man. Apologies, Francis.” 

“None needed,” Francis said with a grin. “Have you and Hawkeye decided on any names yet?” 

Margaret looked down at her stomach wide eyed. “We haven’t even mentioned it.” She pushed herself to stand, sliding off the chair. “I’m going to go find Hawkeye. I’m not going into labor without having a name for him.” 

Francis was left sitting in the tent, his book in his lap. “Lord, please make this transition easy for them.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for autistic meltdown which includes unintentional self harm

There was a lot of grumbling happening the morning of the 25th. A lot of people had lost their due date bets. Most people had bet she’d have the baby early. She’d been handed a stack of cash at breakfast by one of the nurses and Margaret’s face twisted in confusion. 

“It’s the money from the bets. This is the pot that said you’d go before your due date,” Bigelow said. “This one was just from the nurses’ betting pool. Someone else in in charge of the rest— Father Mulcahy maybe?” 

Margaret grabbed the stack of script and shoved it into Hawkeye’s pocket beside her. He gave her a tired smirk and wagged his eyebrows at her as her hand reached in before turning back to his conversation with Charles. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t spend it at Rosie’s.” 

“You think she’s coming soon?” 

Margaret shook her head. “I don’t even think I’ve dropped yet. It could be a few days still.” 

Peggy set her hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “You let us know when it’s time and we’ll be right by your side to help. You know that. Even if it’s not time and you need something, we’ve got your back Margaret.” 

“Thank you.” Margaret smiled at Peggy and Peggy walked out, heading over to post-op. Margaret sighed and stood up, propping herself up on Hawk’s shoulder while she stepped over the bench. “I’m heading to the Swamp.” 

Hawk set his hand on hers and pat it gently. “Alright. I love you.” 

Margaret smiled at him and squeezed his hand before walking off towards the Swamp. Hawkeye watched her walk away and his hand clenched the collar of his shirt. 

Charles looked at Hawkeye’s hand, clenching in his shirt. “You’re still allowed to touch your hair you know.”

“I’m fine,” Hawk said, dropping his hand. His hand was scratching the thigh of his pants and the other was drawing circles with his fork. Charles and BJ shared a look from across the table. 

“Pierce.” 

“I'm _fine_ ,” Hawk said, his voice wavering. 

“Hawk,” BJ said softly. 

“Stop it!” Hawkeye yelled. “Stop it! I’m fine!” He scrunched up and balled his hands into fists on either side of his face. 

“Hawk I love you,” BJ said. “Margaret loves you.” 

Hawkeye whined. His fingers fisted into the hair on either side of his head. 

“Hawk, Margaret really does love you.” BJ scooted around to sit next to Hawk. Hawkeye began to rock. “Alright, too close,” BJ said, moving to the end of the bench. “Can I touch you?” Hawkeye shook his head. “Alright, can I keep talking?” A nod. “You’re loved. You’re so loved, Hawkeye. Can you stop pulling on your hair? Maybe pull on your shirt instead? I—” BJ pulled out a coil of rope from his pocket. “I have this rope you can play with if you want.” 

Hawkeye reached for the rope with his left hand and slowly wrapped it around his fingers. 

“Do you want me to go grab your knitting needles? Or I think you have some yarn that needs to be wrapped into a ball. I can grab that if you’d like.” 

Hawk shook his head. His right hand slowly moved to the rope and he began to tie and untie knots. 

“Are those sailing knots?” Hawk nodded. “You know a lot of different ones. Are you good at sailing?” Hawk nodded again, a little hum in agreement this time. “You’ll have to show me sometime when we get home.” 

Hawkeye relaxed a bit as he tied knots, his body losing some of its tension. His knees were still up against his chest but his body wasn’t curled up as tightly. His breathing calmed the longer he played with the rope and he slumped against Charles’s shoulder. Charles looked down at him, drinking his coffee. 

“Better?” Charles asked. 

“Hmm,” Hawk said, his eyes focused on the knots. 

“Do you want to go lay down?” BJ asked. Hawk paused for a moment before shaking his head. “Are you tired?” A nod. “Don’t want to go back to the Swamp?” Another head shake. “Alright. How about supply? Klinger’s tent maybe. Father Mulcahy would let you borrow his bunk for a bit, I’m sure.” 

“Supply?” Hawk said after a moment. 

“We can go to supply,” BJ said. “Any time you’re ready.” 

Hawk nodded and put his feet back under the table. His feet were rocking side to side as he stretched out his legs. He knotted the rope in his hands and stood up abruptly, walking out of the tent towards supply. “I’m ready,” he mumbled as he walked away. 

BJ stood up and grabbed at the trays before Charles waved him away. “I’ll take care of them,” he said. 

BJ smiled and took off after Hawk, catching up with him halfway there. “How’re you feeling?” 

Hawkeye shrugged. He felt awkward, anxious. Embarrassed. His mind was screaming at him and everything felt like too much. 

“Am I making it worse?” BJ asked. 

Hawkeye shook his head. BJ was good. He was soft and patient; he rarely got upset with Hawkeye for having a meltdown. Charles was okay sometimes. He wasn’t as easy to relax with as BJ but he was good. 

BJ stepped in front of Hawkeye and pulled the supply tent door open, letting Hawk go in first. “Lights or no light?” 

“No,” Hawk said quietly. 

“Alright.” BJ closed the door while Hawk fumbled his way to the cot and dropped into it. 

“I’m sorry,” Hawk said, choked up. “Sorry.” 

BJ set his hand on Hawkeye’s. “It’s okay. What can I do to help you?” 

Hawk whined a bit. “Idontknow,” he mumbled. 

BJ sat on the ground beside the cot, his back pressed against the cot frame. They sat in silence. The sounds of the compound were still heard through the canvas but it was much better than in the middle of the mess tent. 

“Can you come lay on me?” Hawk whispered into the dark. 

BJ stood up, his knees cracking as he groaned and he heaved himself onto the cot beside Hawk. “How do you want me?” 

“Just arm and leg would be okay I think.” 

BJ nodded and curled into Hawkeye’s side. He tossed his leg across Hawk’s legs and his arm over Hawk’s chest. Hawkeye sighed into the touch and BJ relaxed a little more, adjusting himself to be a bit more comfortable. 

“Is this helping?” 

“Mhmm,” Hawkeye sighed though his body was still tense. The longer BJ laid on him, the less tense he seemed until Hawk finally sank into the cot. “Thank you,” he whispered against BJ’s hair. 

“You’re welcome, Hawk. Do you wanna talk about it?” Hawk shook his head and yawned and BJ nodded. “Okay. I love you.” 

“I love you,” Hawkeye choked out. 

“Margaret loves you too.” 

“It’d be nice to hear her say it.” 

A knock sounded on the supply tent door. “ Hawkeye?” Hawkeye pushed his body unconsciously under BJ’s more. Speak of the devil… “Hawkeye, darling are you in there?” 

“Want me to tell her to go away?” BJ asked and Hawk nodded. “He’s asleep, Margaret,” BJ called and he heard Margaret sigh. 

“Can I come see him?” 

BJ crawled off Hawkeye and he whined slightly. “Shh, I’ll be back.” Hawk really was dozing off now. BJ walked over to the door and opened it, standing so Margaret wouldn’t be able to see Hawk unless she pushed past him. 

Margaret looked tired. Her hair was mussed. “Is he okay?” 

“He’s like he usually is after a meltdown— tired, anxious, embarrassed.” 

Margaret’s fingers were scratching across the bottom of her stomach. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Tell him you love him, Margaret,” BJ sighed tiredly. “He’s spiraling here. You completely ignored him earlier when he told you he loved you.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. 

“But you did.” 

Margaret hung her head. 

“And he won’t even touch his hair now because you yelled at him for it.” 

“Can I go see him? Please?” 

BJ looked behind him to where Hawkeye drowsily nodded his head. BJ stepped aside and Margaret walked in and climbed on the cot next to Hawk. 

“I’m sorry,” Margaret whispered. “I love you so much. I haven’t shown you very well, have I?” She brushed back Hawkeye’s hair and he pulled away from her touch. 

“Too much,” he said. 

Margaret pulled her hand back and laid down beside Hawkeye, laying her arm across his chest. Her stomach pressed against his side and Hawk could feel the baby kick. 

“He’s been pretty quiet today,” Margaret said softly. “I think he knows it’s you. He always kicks more when you’re around.” Hawkeye’s hand moved to rest on Margaret’s hip. “He loves you so much already and he’s great at showing it. I… haven’t been so good at it, have I?” Hawkeye looked away from Margaret before shaking his head. “I’m so sorry Hawkeye.” 

“I love you,” he said carefully, his heart guarded. 

“I love you, Hawkeye. So much.” She grabbed Hawkeye’s hand and brought it to her lips. “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” 

Margaret began to hum as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. “BJ said you won’t touch your hair anymore.” 

“It’s fine,” Hawk said. “I’m used to—”

“It’s not fine. It was gross of me to make you feel like that and I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I didn’t want you to stop touching your hair I just wanted you to stop hurting yourself.” 

Hawkeye’s hand crept towards his hair and he touched it with his fingertips. “I didn’t want to make you mad.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I accept your apology,” Hawk said, kissing Margaret’s forehead.

_____ 

Hawkeye was quiet and restless for the next week. Each day that went by without Margaret going into labor made him even more so.

“Come on, Margaret,” BJ said, changing out of his bloody clothes. “It’s May 1st. Tomorrow’s the day, so get those contractions started. Let me win the bet.” 

Margaret smiled tiredly at BJ. “Not today. I’d like to sleep one more night.” She was exhausted. She couldn’t sleep at night, her back was killing her, and eating anything made her nauseated but unless labor started right this minute and progressed very fast, there wasn’t going to be a baby today. 

“Have you tried to figure out what you’re having? I remember my mother had a lot of wives’ tales she tried when Peg was pregnant. Most of them were right.” 

Margaret wrapped a jacket around herself and loosely closed it around herself. She stretched, pushing up on her toes. “No, we haven’t.” 

“We could write them down,” BJ suggested, “figure it out.” 

Margaret collapsed into the desk chair and grabbed a piece of paper. “Alright, which ones do you remember?” 

“Well you’re carrying high— that means girl.” Margaret scribbled it down. “Clear skin— that’s a boy.” 

“This is working out so well already.” 

“Twins,” BJ joked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Then you and Hawk can take care of them and I’m heading back home,” Margaret deadpanned. 

“Body temperature,” BJ listed. “Hot and sweaty is a girl and cold is a boy and faster fetal heart rates are girls.” 

Margaret wrote them down and sighed. Another point for each. 

“Morning sickness means girl, sweet cravings for a girl. Clumsiness— that’s a boy. What else?” BJ shucked off his scrubs and pulled on a clean pair of pants. “Hawk’s put on weight too— thank goodness— so that’s a girl. Frequent headaches say expect a boy. We’re really not leaning one way or the other with this list, are we?” 

“One more point for a girl than a boy, but that’s not really significant enough,” Margaret said, looking at her tally. “Moodiness is supposed to mean it’s a girl.” 

“You haven’t been any moodier than you’ve been since I’ve known you. In fact for the first six months, you were happier than I’ve ever known you to be. So put that down for a boy.” 

Margaret stared at the paper and put a tally down for girl anyway. 

“Then there was some sort of… wedding ring thing but I don’t remember how to do that one. Her hair and her ring but I don’t remember which way was which.” BJ looked over Margaret’s shoulder. “The list leans girl now.” He grinned. “That’s what I put money on.” 

“Unless someone placed a bet even farther out than you, you’re the due date winner anyway.” Margaret tossed the pencil back on the paper. “And don’t think I’m impressed that you’re closest when I’m over a week past due.” 

“Hawkeye’s never early to anything. It made sense that his baby wouldn’t be either,” BJ teased. “He should be back from OR any time now.” 

Margaret’s back ached and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The pressure eased a bit but the pain was still there. Margaret sighed. “How bad was it today?” 

“He’s got a patient who’s not doing so well— Lovett, I think. But overall it wasn’t too—” BJ was cut off by the earth shaking beneath them. Margaret pushed herself to her feet and braced herself on the desk as another shell exploded just outside the swamp. “Alright let’s get you to the hospital. I think there’s sand bags packed in there still.” 

Margaret grimaced as BJ’s hand rest on her back— god, it ached— but she let him cover her back as they pushed through to the offices. She walked into the office where Klinger and Potter were working on the phone. Klinger was under the desk shielding himself as things fell around them.

“Hello? I-Corps? Oh just a second! Here, sir,” Klinger handed over the phone to Colonel Potter. 

“Klinger, you got room for two more?” BJ asked. 

“No. I’m wearing a full skirt.” 

Margaret shifted as she felt that pinch in her back again. BJ’s hand was pressing right on it. “How about room for one?” he asked. 

Klinger stuck his head out and saw Margaret cradling her stomach. “Oh, Major! I’d give up my place for you. Get under here!” 

“I don’t think I’ll fit, Klinger,” she said. “I’m a little fuller than your skirts.” 

“Best I got,” Klinger said apologetically. “There might be sandbags in post-op.” 

Margaret walked through the doors into post-op, running into Hawkeye. “There you are,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms as another shell exploded. “Seems someone forgot hospitals are supposed to be protected.” 

“Colonel Potter’s on the phone with I-Corps now. Maybe they’ll be able to redirect.” 

“Let’s get you behind some sand bags so I can at least pretend you’re safe.” Hawk led her to OR where most of the room was being circled with sandbags. “How are you feeling today? Any contractions yet?” 

Margaret shook her head. “No but BJ and I went over some wives tales in the Swamp and the answers lean very heavily towards a girl.” 

Hawk smirked at that. “So you’re saying I’m right?” 

“I’m saying the wives tales are pointing that direction.” 

Hawkeye took Margret’s hand and rubbed his thumb against her wedding band. “Did you do the wedding ring test? My mom always swore by it.” He helped Margaret to the floor, leaning back against the sand bags. 

“We mentioned it but neither BJ nor I could remember which direction meant what.” 

“Circle means girl and a line means a boy,” Hawk said, sinking to the ground beside her. 

Margaret reached up and tugged a strand of hair from her head and slipped her wedding ring off, threading the two together. “Do you want to do the honors?” she asked. 

Hawk took the strand of hair in his hands and tugged the ring up, hovering it over Margaret’s stomach. He reached out to hold it still and watched it. Slowly the ring began to move in circles over Margaret’s stomach and Hawkeye grinned, lowering the ring to her stomach after a moment. “That’s another point for me,” he said. He ripped off the strand of hair and eased the ring back onto Margaret’s finger, kissing her hand. 

An explosion sounded off right behind the hospital and Margaret flinched. Hawkeye’s thumb brushed back and forth against her knuckles. “I love you,” Margaret said. 

A small smile crossed Hawkeye’s face. “I love you too.” 

“But I’m blaming how late this baby is on you,” she said. “BJ thinks so too. I’m only ever punctual.” 

“I’ll take that blame,” Hawk said as Margaret pushed into his side as another explosion shook the walls. 

BJ pushed through the door and walked over to the couple. “Colonel Potter wants to hold a senior staff meeting in the mess in five,” he said. “Phone’s out and I-Corps won’t redirect fire because we have an outdated code book.” 

Margaret used Hawk’s shoulder to push herself to her feet. “I’m going with you,” she said. “I’m not staying here by myself that’s for sure.” 

“I’ll go grab our helmets,” BJ said. “Meet you at the mess?” 

“It’s a date,” Hawk said. 

Margaret grabbed ahold of Hawkeye’s hands. “Hold on,” she said. She squat down, holding herself up with his hands. “My hips are killing me.” 

“She’ll be here soon,” Hawk said softly. 

Margaret rocked back and forth a bit, trying to open her hips before standing up abruptly. “Alright, let’s go.” She took Hawk’s hand and pulled him to the mess tent. They met BJ outside and each grabbed a helmet, plopping it onto their heads. They walked into the tent and sat at the table alongside Charles, Bigelow, and Colonel Potter. Margaret was only half listening as the officers talked about their options. 

Another explosion rocked the compound and everyone stood up, rushing to start the bug out. Hawkeye took Margaret’s hand and tugged her to an ambulance, pushing her up inside. 

“I should have been listening more,” she admitted. 

“We’re bugging out; moving to a— a cave a little ways away from here,” Hawk said. Margaret took ahold of the railing on one of the bunks as patients were moved up inside. “I have to go get my chest case. I love you.” 

“I love you,” Margaret said, squeezing Hawk’s hand before he walked away. 

“Stay safe,” Hawk said as he ran off, looking back every so often as he ran to the hospital. 

Margaret felt like she was in the way as patients were moved in and nurses and corpsmen maneuvered around her. She pushed herself up into the front corner of the ambulance and tried to make herself smaller as she felt another twinge in her back. This baby was gonna kill her back yet. 

Patients were loaded in and the ambulance shuffled ahead to get out of the way other vehicles moving in. Margaret held tight to one of the bunks the patients were laying in as the ambulance shuffled against the dirt. 

“Nurse,” a boy called. “Nurse?” 

Margaret leaned over towards him and crouched down. “Anything I can help with?” 

“What’s going on?” he asked drowsily— one of the last boys out of anesthesia. “Where’s everyone going?” 

A shell exploded outside the ambulance and Margaret clenched her hand around the bunk. “Bug out,” she said. “We’re moving to a cave nearby until the shelling stops. We’ll be safe there.” 

The boy leaned back against his bunk and sighed tiredly. “When— you’re expecting. When is your due date?” 

Margaret stood up, her hips popping. “Last week,” she said. The boy’s eyes widened as he looked at her. “Don’t worry,” Margaret said laughing, “I feel fine.” 

“My mom’s supposed to have a baby soon, coulda already had it and I won’t know until the mail gets here. I’m hopin’ for a sister,” he said. “Got a bunch of brothers already.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to see them soon.”   
The boy shoved his leg out from under his blanket. “I’m sure I will be,” he said, showing off his leg— cut just below the knee. “Don’t think they’ll take me in the field like this.” 

Margaret pat his hand sympathetically before pushing herself back into the front corner. Standing was killing her back but there was nowhere to sit. She took her helmet off and rest it on her stomach, waiting for the ambulance to start moving. 

A corpsman jumped up on the front of the bus and tapped Margaret’s arm. “Hang on, Major. We’re moving out.” 

Margaret found a handhold and grasped it as the engine rumbled to life and the ambulance pulled out of the compound. Her stomach hit the bunk as the ambulance swerved around a pair of shell craters and she hissed in pain, clenching her stomach. Nurse Able glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as she finished adjusting a blanket over a patient. 

“You alright, Major?” 

Margaret nodded, grimacing. “Yeah just hit my stomach off the bunk,” she said trying to rub the ache away. “I’m fine.” Margaret lifted her shirt a bit, Able blocking her from the others’ view. There was a red splotch on her skin but nothing worrisome. She eased her shirt down and pushed back into the corner. “I’m fine.” 

“Better get your helmet back on; we’re almost there.” 

Margaret plopped her helmet back on her head and pulled her jacket tighter around herself. The driver— Goldman— took Margaret’s hand in his and led her off the bus and into the cave. 

“Stay safe, Major,” he said, running back off to the bus. 

Margaret was pushed back towards the far wall of the cave as litters were shuffled in. She sank to the floor. Her back ached, her hips were tired, her stomach was churning. She felt nauseous and her body was tensed as exploding shells echoed into the cave. Margaret crossed her legs and cradled her stomach in her hands. Her eyes fell closed and she leaned back against the rock wall. 

“Are you alright Margaret?” Colonel Potter was standing over her as he pulled on a stethoscope.

Margaret opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Hmm?” 

“Are you feeling alright?” She nodded tiredly and Colonel Potter looked at her, something akin to pity in his eyes. “You’ll let me know if that changes, won’t you?” 

Margaret shifted, her hand clenching on her jacket. “Sure,” she said. “But I’m not in labor.” 

“Never said you were.” 

“Good,” Margaret said, “Because I’m not.” 

Maybe if she said it long enough she’d convince herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit shorter but it's moving the story along.

Margaret walked around the cave, waiting for Hawkeye to walk in at any minute. Where was he? BJ was in the cave so Hawkeye had to be here somewhere. Her body was pressed against the wall as someone maneuvered through to the patients. Bigelow was directing the nurses as well as Margaret could have hoped for— better even. Colonel Potter was moving about, Father Mulcahy, Klinger, BJ… 

“I’m gettin’ out and goin’ for coffee!” 

That was Hawkeye. That was definitely Hawkeye. 

Margaret moved between the personnel and the walls to the entrance, pulling her helmet back over her head. “Sorry,” she murmured as her stomach took up more room than there really was in such a small cave. 

Hawkeye was standing away from the entrance of the cave, doubled over as he took a few deep breaths before standing and looking up to the sky. 

“Hawkeye?” 

“Margaret, what— You should be inside.” An explosion rocked the ground around them and they both stiffened in place. 

“So should you,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere without you, so either you get in there or I stay out here with you. Those are your choices.” 

“I’d love to, Margaret; I’d really love to.” Hawkeye moved to the mouth of the cave— close enough inside to keep Margaret just that bit safer, but far enough outside that the walls weren’t closing in around him. “Come here, we’ll sit.” 

Hawkeye helped Margaret to the ground where she laid down, curled into Hawkeye’s side. Her stomach was pressed uncomfortably against a rock but she was cold and tired and didn’t care much. 

“Why don’t you sleep?” Hawk asked. “One of us should get some rest.” 

Margaret closed her eyes, trying to sleep amidst all the noise. Her sleep was restless; she could hear every explosion and feel every twinge of pain through her back and stomach. They were few and far between, thankfully. 

Hawk shifted away from her and she sat up abruptly, reaching for him. “Where are you going?” 

“Down to the corner to buy a paper and a larger room,” he quipped. 

“No, no, no,” Margaret said. “Stay here. Come on. I’ll sit with you.” She pulled Hawkeye closer to her until he budged over against her, their bodies touching from shoulder to ankle. 

Hawkeye’s eyes were wide as he looked at Margaret. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” 

“What?” 

“Looking in there makes me think of all the things I wouldn’t want to come back as— a snail, an oyster, a turtle.” He laughed wryly. “Can you imagine me as a turtle? Afraid to get into my own shell. I’d die of embarrassment; all the other turtles laughing at me in my underwear.” He sighed and clasped their hands together, his thumb reaching to rub against her ring. “I wish I was strong and brave like you.” 

“Ha! That’s a laugh,” Margaret said. “As much as you want to get out of this cave, that’s how much I want to stay in.” 

“Oh? You like suffocation?” 

Margaret rolled her eyes fondly. “With you, it’s closed in places; with me it’s loud noises. I’ve always been oversensitive to them. Trains, a car backfiring—” An loud explosion sounded off near the camp. “— shellfire. I hate shellfire.”

“So naturally you joined the army.” 

“To be a nurse,” Margaret defended. “Every time a shell goes off, I have to practically nail my feet to the floor to keep myself from running away.” Another shell hit off in the opposite direction from camp. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Hawk soothed. “That wasn’t close.” A shell hit just outside the cave and Margaret screamed. They pushed themselves into each others’ arms. “Now that’s close.” BJ walked up and handed over a cup of tea, not hot but warm enough. He passed the cup off to Hawkeye, who passed it to Margaret. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Margaret said, sipping the water. Her body tensed as a contraction ached through her stomach and lower back. The men were talking over her when one of the nurses called to Hawkeye. 

“Hawkeye, Private Lovett’s blood pressure’s dropping.” 

BJ pushed to his feet. “Stay put,” he said. “I’ll get it. 

“Thanks.” Hawk paused. “No wait a minute. I’m a doctor and he’s my patient. Let me try.” 

Margaret’s hand shot down to grab Hawkeye’s. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course not.” Hawk stood up. “Stay with me, but not too close,” he said to BJ. 

Margaret watched from the cave entrance as Hawkeye looked over his patient. The look on his face went from frantic to his physician’s facade before turning back to panic as he shot past her and out the entry. He took a few heaving breaths before running back in, not hearing her small “Hawkeye?” 

Hawk shot past her again, leaning on the rock wall outside the cave and she pushed to her feet, BJ helping her the rest of the way up. “We’re gonna have to go back in,” Hawk said. “I’m gonna need one of the nurses.” 

“I’ll get my helmet,” Margaret said.

“Margaret, stay here. It’s a lot quieter and you and the baby will be a lot safer.” 

“I know, I know. I’m crazy and I’ll probably never forgive myself. But I was also head nurse. I’ll be damned if I’ll let someone else go out there to face what terrifies me. And I’m not leaving you. I’m pregnant but I still have all my nursing skills.” 

BJ came back with Colonel Potter and Bigelow in tow. “Margaret where in blue blazes do you think you’re going?” 

“With Hawk. Army or not; I’m still a nurse,” she said, squatting to grab her helmet from the ground. “And I’m not leaving my husband.” Hawkeye pushed back in the cave to help BJ prepare Lovett for transit and Bigelow followed. 

“Margaret, listen. I may just be an old geezer but I know you and that baby will both be much safer here.” 

“So would Hawkeye,” Margaret explained. 

“Contractions?” 

“Half an hour apart and weak,” Margaret said. “I’m not leaving him, Colonel.” 

Colonel Potter sighed. “I know. And I’ve got no authority over you anymore but please, Margaret. Let Lieutenant Bigelow go.” 

“Bigelow has enough to worry about here.” Margaret stepped back to let BJ and Hawk lift Lovett up onto the jeep and strap the litter down as best as they could. “I’ll drive,” she said, climbing in the seat. She drove slowly, maneuvering carefully around puddles and mortar holes as they approached the camp. Something in her back twinged as she helped carry Lovett into OR. They scrubbed, silence heavy between them as the shell explosions more than made up enough noise. 

The surgery went by in a blur. Margaret was glad she didn’t have to write up the paperwork on it; she wasn’t sure she could remember specifics. Just that Lovett was doing better and she was exhausted. 

Hawk kissed the crown of Margaret’s head as she slumped onto a cot in post-op. “I’m glad you were here with me,” he murmured. “Get some sleep.” 

Margaret nodded and laid down, curling an arm around her stomach. Hawk eased her cot closer to his own and crawled in beside her. The cots weren’t touching, but Hawk was able to hold Margaret’s hand as she reached behind her. 

“I love you,” she said. 

“You too,” Hawk mumbled, half asleep.

_____

Hawkeye jerked awake as Margaret whined softly into the quiet night. She’d turned towards him at some point and her brows were furrowed slightly.

He took her hand in his and fell back asleep.

_____

The next time they both woke up, post-op was full. There were boys on cots all around them with a couple boys sitting on chairs, crutches leaning against their legs. Margaret sat up and looked around her. Her eyes were wide with sleep as she looked at everyone around her. She vaguely recalled Hawk waking her up at one point saying they were home but it hadn’t really registered and she had turned over and went back to sleep.

She stood up and stretched, reaching back to untie her apron. Hawkeye was still in his gown and both their caps were dropped on the ground between the bunks. She sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to grab them when they were swiped out from just under her hands. Hawk smiled at her tiredly. “G’morning,” Hawk said. 

“Good morning,” she said. “You want to go get some breakfast?” 

“It’s nearly suppertime,” the boy behind them said from his cot. “You guys have been asleep ever since we got back, at least.” 

“Then why don’t I feel rested?” Hawk groused. He stood up and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. “C’mon gorgeous, let’s go shower.” Hawk turned to check on Lovett before his shower and was pleased to find his eyes were open. “Hey, speaking of gorgeous. You got some pretty eyes there, Lovett. Nice to see them.” 

“Thanks, doc,” Lovett said with a crooked grin. “You too, ma’am.” 

Margaret smiled at him. “Glad to see you’re doing better.” She patted Hawkeye on the shoulder. “I’m going back to the Swamp for a minute.” 

“I’ll meet you there,” Hawk said. 

Margaret stripped off her apron and set it in a hamper at the edge of post-op. She was sure her exhaustion was written all over her face as she walked to the Swamp. Francis met her as she walked. “Margaret, what a wonderful day, isn’t it?” 

“Much quieter than yesterday,” Margaret said. “It’s well welcome.” 

Francis joined her at the Swamp as she sat on the edge of her cot, rooting through her footlocker for clothes. “How are you feeling, Margaret? Nurse Able mentioned in passing that you hit your stomach on the ride to the cave. I should have asked you at the time. My apologies for such an oversight.” 

“I’m alright, Francis,” Margaret said. “Tired and achy. The baby might need a boxer instructor based on the way she’s hitting my bladder,” Margaret said. “You up for hire?” 

Francis smiled. “For you, I could be. I notice you said ‘she’ this time.” 

“BJ and I went through wives’ tales yesterday before the bug out. It leans towards it being a girl.” Margaret pulled out a dress and a pair of underwear and tossed them on the bed. “I just want them to be healthy.” 

“I’ve prayed for just that,” Francis said. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” 

“Me too,” Margaret said. “Whether she wants to or not.” That twinge was in her back again, stronger this time. 

“Margaret?” She must’ve made a face.

“Like I said, whether she wants to or not. Don’t tell Hawk; not yet.” 

“How long since your last contraction?” 

“I don’t know,” Margaret admitted. “Hawk and I just woke up. They’re not too strong yet; I was able to sleep through them all night. Twenty minutes? Little more.” She rubbed at her stomach, trying to ease away the contraction. It ebbed away quickly and Margaret sighed tiredly. “I’m not having her today. That would mean BJ’s right.” 

“Hawkeye bet on tomorrow.” 

Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Why did they bet so far out? They did this on purpose I think.” 

Francis laughed. “I’m sure they didn’t mean it.” 

“For their sake, they’d better hope not.” The door opened and Hawkeye walked in and walked straight to his footlocker to grab his shower kit. “What’s this I hear about you betting on tomorrow? I think you and BJ did this on purpose.” 

“Well whichever one of us wins, the baby gets the majority of the pot anyway,” Hawk teased. “I just want the bragging rights.” 

Francis looked between the two of them— Hawk with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Margaret with her arms crossed and her jaw set. “I see you’re readying your shower kits,” he said. “I’d best get going.” 

Francis scurried out the door and Hawkeye burst into laughter. “C’mon Margaret. Any day she’ll be here. Let’s go grab the shower before anyone else wants it.” 

Margaret undressed under Hawk’s lascivious gaze and pulled his robe on. She grabbed her shower kit and a hanger and walked to the shower tent. Everyone in camp was courteous about the hanger on the shower door. They’d figured out what it meant without being told… or Hawk told them to stay out of the mens showers if there was a hanger; either way it meant Margaret could shower in relative peace. 

Hawkeye stepped in behind her and turned on the shower. The warm water ran down Margaret’s chest and Hawkeye started massaging her shoulders. Margaret leaned into his hands and sighed. 

“I’m so tired.” 

“We can go back to sleep after supper,” Hawk said, kissing the side of Margaret’s head. 

Margaret hummed in agreement and Hawk turned her around and leaned her head back into the water. Hawk’s fingers massaged water into her hair. Hawkeye’s hands were gentle as he rubbed soap into her hair. She winced as a contraction squeezed through her back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Margaret said. “You snagged a snarl or something; I’m alright.” 

“Sorry; I’ll be more careful.” 

Margaret opened her eyes to watch Hawkeye as he focused on rinsing all the soap from her hair. His face was weary, his eyes tired. “How are you feeling?” 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m excited,” he said, “but I’m so exhausted. It’s been almost three years. We should be preparing for a baby at home. You and me in our own place— a nursery, an inordinate amount of knitted baby clothes and blankets and whatever else; bottles and— and we’d invite your mom and dad to stay with us and I’d get so annoyed but I’d want them there because you’d want them there. Where are our points?” 

“We’ll be okay, Hawkeye. Promise.” 

“You can’t promise that,” he whispered. 

“I’ll fight anyone who tries to stop us from going home the second you get your points.” 

Hawkeye smiled and trailed his hands down to her stomach. “Oh you will, will you?” 

“I will and then when we’re back in the states, I’ll kick your ass for doubting me.” Margaret smirked at him and turned them around so Hawk was under the water instead of her. She washed his hair as carefully as he’d washed hers, relishing the simplicity of how his head leaned into her hands. Hawkeye sighed as she pulled her hands back and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. 

Margaret leaned her forehead against Hawkeye’s chest and pressed a hand to her stomach. Oh god, she felt nauseated. 

“Margaret?” 

Margaret pushed through the shower door into the adjoining stall and squatted down to throw up down the drain, gagging when nothing came out but some water and bile. Hawkeye stepped in behind her and pulled her hair back until she was done. Hawk turned on the shower quickly, rinsing the floor and drain as Margaret leaned back. “Sorry,” she said. “That was disgusting.” 

“You alright?” Hawk helped Margaret to her feet and turned the shower off. “I really just don’t feel good.” Margaret pushed Hawk back into their own shower and drank the water from the shower spray to rinse out her mouth. 

“Contractions?” 

Margaret shook her head and fumbled around for her washcloth and soap just as a knock rapped against the shower door. “What?” Margaret groused.

“Five minute warning,” BJ said. 

“Go back to the tent and we’ll be done when we’re done,” Hawk called. 

“Sorry Hawk, there’s people waiting out here and they weren’t brave enough to ask you themselves.” 

Igor grumbled a bit to BJ. “It ain’t my fault I’ve only got an hour to shower and eat before my next shift Captain. ‘f I didn’t need to rush off, I’d leave ‘em alone.” 

“We’ll be out in a few minutes, Igor.” 

Margaret rinsed herself and toweled off. Hawk gave her a kiss before she wrapped his robe around her. “I’ll be out in a few,” he said as she walked out. Margaret snagged the hanger from the door handle and gave Igor a small smile. 

“Sorry, Major,” he said, looking abashed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving her hand. She walked back to the Swamp and sank into the dentist chair, leaning back. BJ waited a few minutes before following her. 

“Not getting dressed?” he teased. Margaret shook her head. “Can you hand me the bedpan?” BJ picked it up and handed it to her and she turned away gagging. BJ held her hair back from her face and rubbed her back. She spit into the bedpan and sat up. 

“Better?” 

“Not really.” Margaret set the bedpan in her lap and reclined a bit. Her hands rested on her stomach. “Sorry. That was gross.” 

“Wouldn’t have become a doctor if I couldn’t handle a little gross,” BJ said with a crooked grin. “I’m sure you’re not too hungry but we need to get something in you anyway. How far apart are your contractions?” 

“I’m not in labor,” Margaret said. 

BJ who had sat on his bunk and to change out his socks looked up at Margaret. “I’m not thinking about the bet, Margaret. How long?” 

Margaret leaned back over the bedpan, holding her own hair out of the way. It had been too long since she’d eaten; there was nothing in her stomach. She sat back and wiped at her mouth with the sleeve of the robe. “Can I get dressed?” 

BJ turned around and looked away from Margaret’s cot as she walked over and pulled a dressing screen open. She tossed the dress back into the footlocker and pulled out a shirt and pants. She slipped her clothes on and collapsed onto the cot as a contraction tore through her stomach. That one was a lot stronger than the others. Sooner, too. 

“Margaret, you alright over there?” 

Margaret hummed out a bit off ‘mhmm’ as she pushed herself to her feet. “Yeah I’m fine.” Hawk walked into the tent, humming as he dropped his and Margaret’s shower kits on his footlocker. “Don’t tell him,” she mouthed. 

BJ’s eyebrows furrowed but he nodded. “Alright sweethearts,” he said, tossing his arm over Hawk’s shoulders. “Shall we dine?” 

“We shall,” Hawkeye said. “But can I get more clothes on?” 

“I love the boxers look,” Margaret said. 

Hawk waggled his eyebrows at Margaret who shook her head and rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her face. “You think I should go to dinner like this?” 

“I think half of the camp has already seen you naked, this is a step up for them,” she teased. “Get dressed.” 

Hawk ducked out from under BJ’s arms and snagged a pair of pants from his laundry pile and a shirt and pulled them on. “Should I wear something fancier? This might be my last supper not as a dad.” 

“You can wear the tux when she delivers,” BJ pointed out. “Let your baby see you in style.” 

Hawk’s head perked up from where he was rooting through his footlocker for a bowtie. “You think so?” 

Margaret laughed and rolled her eyes, walking away towards the mess tent. Hawk and BJ’s conversation faded as she detoured towards the latrine.

Hawk watched her walk away as he joked with BJ, fixing the bowtie around his collar. He snagged his cowboy hat from the corner and plopped it on his head. “Here’s hoping the baby comes soon,” he said. “Or I’ll be stuck wearing this bowtie every mealtime until then.” 

“She’s a week and a half overdue; I’m sure the baby will be here any time. It won’t be too many meal times with a bowtie.” _Fewer than you think_ , BJ thought. “C’mon I’m sure she’ll meet us at the mess.” 

They were halfway there when an ambulance screeched into the compound. 

“Wounded in the compound!” The PA announced. “All surgical teams report to OR.” 

Hawk groaned. “What? No.” He slipped off the bowtie and shoved it into his pocket. “Was that last deluge not enough? We don’t have room!” 

BJ set a hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “You head to OR; I’ll be right there, okay?” BJ took off, jogging around the camp, looking for Father Mulcahy. He’d be going to surgery, too. Where was he? “Father Mulcahy!” 

Francis came out of his tent, bible and stole in his hands. “BJ, shouldn’t you be scrubbing in?” 

“I need you to keep an eye on Margaret tonight— just check in on her every so often.” 

Francis’s brow furrowed. “Is she alright?” 

“She’s in labor but she doesn’t want to tell Hawk yet. We’re heading into surgery so I can’t do it. Please, Father.” 

“Of course,” Francis said. “Where is she?” 

BJ looked around the camp, trying to spot her. “Latrine still, maybe? I don’t know. Please keep an eye on her?” 

“Of course.” 

BJ took off towards the hospital leaving Francis to follow behind him stunned.


	10. Chapter 10

It was nearly three hours alone in the Swamp before Margaret fell asleep and another five before she was awake to hear anyone else come into the tent. Charles trudged in and she sat up with a muffled groan. “Are you done?” she asked.

Charles dumped himself face first into his cot. “Hardly. The colonel insisted I take an hour to rest and I’m not fool enough to turn that down. It’s two am and I haven’t had a bit of rest since before the bug out yesterday. Now please do excuse me, but I’m going to take this hour and make use of it. Goodnight Margaret.” 

“Goodnight, Charles,” Margaret whispered. She shuffled to the edge of the cot and rubbed at her back. The contractions were finally starting to get stronger and the pain was radiating through her entire torso. She bit off a groan and rocked back and forth on her cot; she almost didn’t make it to the garbage bucket in time. 

Charles turned around at the sound of Margaret’s retching and turned on his light. “Margaret, are you feeling alright?” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth. “I can go somewhere else, just give me a moment.” She was squatting in the corner, propping herself up on the garbage can. 

Charles rolled off his cot and trudged to the corner. Seeing the nearly empty basket, he rest a hand on her shoulder. “Margaret, are you keeping hydrated?” 

“Apparently not,” she groused, coughing. She stood up and wiped at her mouth. Her hands were shaking slightly as Charles took her arm. 

“Come back to your bed, Margaret. How long have you been in labor?” 

Margaret rolled onto her side and curled in on her stomach as another contraction squeezed through her back. “Can you rub my back?” She whispered. “Sometime before the bug out.” 

“Does anyone know? Have you told Pierce or Colonel Potter?” Margaret shook her head and Charles sighed. “And I suppose you don’t want me to tell him. Margaret, _why?_ ” 

“He has to focus on surgery.” Margaret curled up around her stomach as the contractions came back to back. “And you should too.” 

Charles’s hands were rubbing circles on Margaret’s lower back. “My hour will be up soon and I’ll be back in the OR and I assure you that I’ll focus, not because I don’t care for you, but because I know how strong and determined you are. You’ll do this on your own if you have to.” Charles eased back hair from her face. “I do hope you make it to the hospital when it’s time to deliver, however.” Charles sighed and looked down at his watch. “It’s nearly time for me to go back. I’m sending someone to stay with you and hook you up to a saline drip. Who would you prefer?” 

“Father Mulcahy if you can spare him. I’ll help put in the IV.” 

“We’re nearly done. I’m sure he can leave.” Charles pulled his hand from Margaret’s back and she groaned. “Sit up, I’ll pull your hair back from your face before I leave.” Margaret sat up and Charles snagged a hair ribbon from her bedside table. His hands moved deftly as he pulled Margaret’s hair back into a braid. He tied it off and slung the tail over her shoulder. Margaret’s eyes looked up at him questioningly and Charles smiled. “I had a younger sister, Margaret. I know how to braid hair. I have to go but I’ll send over Father Mulcahy with a bottle of fluids.” 

“Thank you,” Margaret said, standing and following Charles to the door. “I’ll be over in the hospital in a few hours.” 

“I’ll save you a table,” Charles said grinning before turning to walk away. 

Margaret leaned against the doorway for a moment and cradled her stomach. Charles walked back into the hospital and Margaret turned back into the Swamp. She shucked her clothes off and tossed them into her laundry bag and wrapped Hawkeye’s robe around her. 

BJ stepped into the tent, bottle of fluids and an IV needle in his hands. 

“Why Francis,” Margaret quipped. “What a big mustache you have.” 

“The better to… There’s nothing I can say that’ll make sense.” BJ laughed. “That was a good one though. Father Mulcahy is on his way; he’s finishing helping in post-op.” BJ hung the bottle up on the IV hook and pressed the needle into the back of her hand with practiced ease, taping it into place. “Do you want me to see how dilated you are?” 

“Please,” Margaret said. “The sooner she’s out, the better.” She laid back on her cot and closed her eyes as BJ pulled on a glove from his med kit in the corner. BJ nudged her thighs apart gently and Margaret just kept her eyes closed. She always hated this part. 

“Oh goodness!” Francis exclaimed as he walked in. 

Margaret groaned— only half in embarrassment— as a contraction squeezed through her stomach. “BJ back off,” she gritted out through her teeth. BJ pulled his hand back and pulled the robe back over Margaret’s legs. 

“A little over eight centimeters,” he said. “Almost there. Another hour or two maybe.” 

“If it takes another two hours, I’m done having children,” Margaret said. “It’s already been— what?— thirty hours? I’m tired, I’m sore, and I just want the baby here.” 

“Soon,” Francis said as he approached Margaret’s cot. 

Margaret stood up and ducked behind the dressing screen to pull on a pair of clean underwear. She closed the screen and grabbed the IV hook as Francis sat on the cot. “I’m going for a walk,” she said, pulling the IV behind her. 

BJ watched her walk across the compound and almost immediately crouch down on the dirt path, cradling her stomach. He sighed. “Father you’ll stay with her, won’t you?” 

“Of course. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.” 

BJ gave Francis a tense smile and clapped him on the shoulder before walking out and heading back to the hospital. He stopped alongside Margaret on his way. “Make sure you leave time to make it to the hospital,” he said. “I’m heading back to the OR.” 

Margaret stood back up, half leaning on the IV hook. “How long do you think you’ll be?” 

“Hawk’s nearly done his last surgery; he should be sewing up soon. The rest of us can take over with the last few broken bones.” 

“I don’t—” Margaret panted and leaned against BJ as another contraction tightened her back. “I don’t think it’ll take an hour.” 

“Me neither.” 

Francis stepped up beside them. “Is there anything I can do to help, Margaret?” 

“I give it twenty minutes.” 

BJ stepped back and Francis took his place. “Then I’ll see you in fifteen,” he said. 

Margaret leaned against Francis’s shoulder and moaned low in her throat. She sat up. The contraction wasn’t letting up at all but she had to move. There was a group of children running across the compound despite it being the middle of the night. 

Margaret watched them as they ran past, their arms coming close to hitting her as they flailed. A little one— a toddler, struggling to keep up— tripped over the wheels on the IV hook and slammed into Margaret’s legs. He started sobbing and Margaret crouched down carefully to soothe him. “Are you alright?” she asked.

The boy stood up and threw himself into her arms, nearly sending Margaret falling back into the dirt. She hoisted him up onto her hip and stood back up, stifling a groan. 

“Margaret,” Francis coaxed, “let me take him.” Francis held his arms out and the little boy curled into Margaret’s neck. 

“He’s alright,” Margaret said. Her face twisted in pain and her eyes widened. 

“Margaret?” Francis’s voice was tinged with concern and— some fear? 

Margaret rubbed the boy’s back and spoke softly against his hair. “I’m going to give you to Father Mulcahy, alright? He’s nice.” She handed the boy over and stepped back, looking at the dirt. There was a small damp spot and Margaret took a shuddering breath. She pulled the needle from the back of her hand and taped the needle to the back of the bottle. She hurried back to the Swamp— hurrying to the best of her capabilities— stopping every so often to crouch down to the ground and cradle her stomach. 

Francis was behind her, the toddler holding his hand and walking behind him. “Margaret how can I—?” 

“Be quiet,” Margaret groaned, “God, please be quiet.” She dropped to the ground again and held herself up with the doorway of the Swamp. 

“I can get a wheelchair.” A pair of boys came and took the hand of the toddler and ran off. Francis took the opportunity to crouch down beside Margaret. 

“I’ll walk. Give me—” A sharp breath, the sting of her nails biting into the palm of her hand. “Let me get these underwear off.” She stood up and hobbled into the tent and dropped onto her cot. She couldn’t even get the underwear off. She was so exhausted. 

A knock sounded on the door. “Margaret, it’s been five minutes, are you alright?” 

Five whole minutes? “I’m— I’ll be right out,” Margaret called. She lifted her hips and eased the underwear off, tossing them on the floor. She stood up and her legs buckled as a contraction— the strongest one yet— ached through her back. She was squatting; the only thing keeping her balanced was her hand on her cot. Hawkeye’s robe hung loose around her, the bottom falling open, the neckline sliding off her shoulder. Anyone who walked in was sure to get an eyeful. 

It was Francis. “Margaret, I was more than patient, but I truly think you need to— oh goodness.” 

Margaret’s face was red. Stray baby hairs stuck to the sweat on her face. 

“I’m going to get a wheelchair.” 

“Just help me up, please.” 

Francis’s brow was furrowed as he watched Margaret. His hand wrapped around her arm just above the elbow and he hoisted her to her feet. 

Walking to the hospital took longer than it ever had before. Francis’s arm was slung around her hips, keeping her (somewhat) upright. Francis pushed the pre-op door open and led Margaret inside. Margaret collapsed over a table, his face shoved into her arms. Her hands tangled with the braid in her hair and she pulled it loose, unweaving the pleats. Her hair curtained down around her face. 

“I’m going to go get Hawkeye,” Francis said, turning away and holding a mask over his face. 

Margaret pushed off the table and followed him, propping herself up against the doorway. She looked at everyone as they worked. 

“Move him out,” Hawk said, stepping back from the kid on his table. It was a broken leg— they were finishing up with the less pressing cases. No sooner had Hawkeye looked up and met her gaze than the bottom part of the robe soaked as her water broke. 

The sudden gush of fluid was loud enough for everyone to turn around and stare at her, her face red, her eyes wide. Margaret smiled shakily at Hawk as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Hi,” she said, her voice wavering. Lieutenant Lacey took Margaret by the arm and helped her to the other side of the room. Hawk held his hands up, trying not to touch anything with his gloves. Someone yanked them off from behind him and stripped his gown off. 

“Margaret—?” 

Margaret stumbled into Hawk’s chest and groaned. Hawk pulled her into a hug, his hands still not touching anything. “Hope you’re excited to win the bet,” Margaret said. “Because today’s the day.” 

“How long— How long have you been in labor?” 

Margaret gasped against Hawkeye’s chest, her hands clenching at her stomach. “Long enough to need to push,” she groaned. “Help me up on the table.” 

A couple of nurses made quick work to clean and sanitize the table— Charles and Hawk had switched tables when Charles had come back and it all made sense now. A nurse laid a clean sheet over the tabletop. Hawk’s hands landed on Margaret’s hips and he helped her up onto the table. Margaret tried to shift herself until she was comfortable. She was laying on her back and she felt every bit of the contractions piercing through her back. 

Margaret rocked forward. “Help me up.” Hawk looked quizzically at her until she maneuvered herself into a squat. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Francis had his mask tied on and his hands were washed. 

“Get ready to catch,” Margaret said. “Hawk can you—hold—” 

Hawk stood beside her, her hand resting on his shoulder. His hands braced on her back and the other held onto her knee. “That good?” 

Margaret nodded and shifted her feet wider apart. 

The operating room was suddenly nearly silent. The clank of tools against the metal pans echoed in the room. Quiet murmurs sounded across the tables. Hawkeye’s words were the loudest thing of all. “I’m so proud of you,” he breathed into her hair. His hand left her back momentarily to brush her hair back from her face. “You’re so much stronger than I ever could be. You’ve been in labor for— how long?— and all on your own, no complaining or anything.” 

Margaret curled over her stomach, grabbing the back of her left thigh. 

“Push for ten at least. C’mon Margaret,” Hawkeye encouraged. “You don’t need me for this; you’ve helped deliver dozens of babies since we’ve been here. You know how to do this.” 

Margaret wasn’t breathing as she pushed. She gasped for breath as her body uncurled. 

“You have to breathe, Margaret. Breathe while you push. You’re doing so well.” 

“All done,” BJ said softly to Margaret’s left. He stripped his own gloves off and tossed them on the floor, his dirty gown following suit. “Where do you want me, Margaret?” 

Margaret took a deep breath and curled over her stomach again. She wavered, her foot slipping the sheet across the slick surface of the table. BJ caught her and braced her similarly to Hawk. She pushed for nearly twenty seconds— twenty long seconds— before sitting back up. “I’m sure Francis would appreciate it if you changed places with him. I think he’s seen more of me than he ever wanted to.” Margaret shot a sleepy smile at Francis whose face flushed red. 

BJ stepped back for Francis to slot himself into place and took his own place on the edge of the table. “She’s crowning, Margaret. She’d got a full head of hair.” 

“Hear that?” Hawk said. “You’re doing so well Margaret.” Margaret doubled over and pushed again, a strangled groan cut off in the middle. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Margaret huffed out a laugh and pushed herself back up. “You ass,” she said panting. “I lost the contraction.” 

Hawk grinned cheekily at her. “You are beautiful. Beautiful and smart and strong. Super sexy. Love of my life. I’m so glad you married me.” 

Margaret leaned down and kissed him. “I love you. Even if you are a sap.” 

“It’s the maple syrup running through my veins.” Hawk thumbed a bead of sweat from Margaret’s forehead and pushed her hair back from her face. “Want me to put your hair back out of your face?” 

Margaret fisted the hand on his shoulder a bit tighter as the contraction strengthened. She doubled over and pushed, her hair falling into her face. Margaret felt a release of pressure and leaned back.

“Head’s out,” BJ said, reaching out to hold it away from the table top. 

“Shoulders might be worse,” Margaret said panting. She shifted her weight, leaning on Francis. He was pointedly not looking at the baby and Margaret smiled tiredly. “Thank you for helping Francis.” 

The tip of Francis’s ears flushed. “Oh it’s nothing.” 

“It’s not.” Margaret bore down, trying to push the shoulders out. She whined as her legs began to shake.

“Almost there, Margaret,” BJ said, cradling the baby’s head. He turned the baby slightly and the shoulders popped out. Margaret took a gasp of relief. “One more push and they’ll be here.” 

Hawk took his hand off Margaret’s back and set it on the hand she’d braced on his shoulder. He kissed her fingers and nosed at her hair again. “Last one, honey. She’s almost here.” 

Margaret’s chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. A strong contraction came and Margaret ignored it. She needed to breathe, no matter how badly she wanted the baby here. Tears were streaming from her eyes but she wasn’t really crying. Hawk took the lapel of the robe and wiped the tears from her eyes. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Margaret whispered. 

Hawk smiled at her. “That’s alright.” Margaret’s tired smile turned to a grimace. “Last push?” 

Margaret nodded and chewed on her bottom lip as she pushed that one last time. BJ caught the baby in his hands and cradled it right against his chest. Margaret slipped to the table and laid there breathing in relief. 

Hawk kissed her deeply, his hand cradling her face before he turned to the screaming baby and took her in his own arms. “It’s a girl,” he whispered. “It’s a girl.” This time he was loud enough for everyone to hear. “May 3rd— that means I won the bet. Everyone pay up. Checks made payable to Baby Houlihan-Pierce.” 

“Frances,” Margaret said. 

The priest looked up from where he’d been wiping the sweat and tears from Margaret’s face. “Yes?” 

“That’s what we’re naming her. Frances Jane Houlihan-Pierce. Frances with an e of course. You've helped Hawkeye and I so much these past few months.” Margaret sat up and held her arms out for the baby. “Let me see her.” 

Hawkeye eased back the top of the robe and slipped the baby inside. Between his and BJ’s shirts, she was already a bit dry. The robe was sure to keep Frances warm. 

“A great name,” Colonel Potter said. “and a great namesake.” He turned around and looked at the clock. “3:37 a.m. Welcome to the world Frances.” 

_____

Neither Margaret nor Hawk were really paying attention as Margaret delivered the placenta or as BJ sewed her up afterward. Hawk had moved to sit behind Margaret, her own personal chair to lean on. He watched over her shoulder as Frances laid against her breast. 

“Should we measure and weigh her?” 

“Yeah,” Margaret said, not moving. “Let’s just look at her a little longer.” Her hair had dried. It was soft and black and it looked like it might develop soft curls. Her eyes were a light gray, hardly darker than the whites of her eyes— she was going to have bright blue eyes in a few months. 

The room cleared out bit by bit until it was just Margaret, Hawkeye, Frances, and BJ. “Anything I can do?” 

“Weigh her?” Margaret asked. “I don’t want to move quite yet.” 

BJ leaned down and took Frances in his arms wrapped in a tiny receiving blanket. Frances’s face was sweet, precious and it made his heart ache. He carried her to the scale Klinger had stationed in the corner at one point and laid Frances on it. He pulled his hand back and looked at the scale, watching the needle bounce to a stop. 

“Six pounds, five ounces,” he said. He leaned in close to Frances’s face. “I’m gonna have to take this blanket off you and you’re going to hate how cold it is but I’m going to measure you, alright sweetheart?” 

True to BJ’s word, nearly as soon as he pulled the blanket away from Frances’s skin, she started screaming. BJ pulls her leg straight and marked a pencil mark on the tablet either length of her body before wrapping her back up and pulling her close. 

“Back to mommy,” BJ murmured, laying her back on Margaret’s chest. He smoothed down Frances’s hair gently and grabbed a small tape measure— temporarily donated by Klinger— and measured Frances’s length. The ache in his chest was starting to get overpowering. “Twenty-one inches.” He wiped at his eyes. “I’m heading back to the Swamp. Is there anything you need?” 

Margaret swung her legs over the edge of the table. “Are you alright?” 

BJ didn’t turn around. “Yeah, just tired.” 

Margaret motioned to Hawk with her head and he crawled off the table and walked to BJ. 

Hawk stepped up behind BJ and set a hand on his shoulder. “You okay Beej?” 

BJ nodded and wiped a tear away from his eyes. “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s gorgeous.” 

“But—?” 

“No but. I’m just thinking about the last time I saw Erin; she was this size. Maybe smaller.” Hawk pulled BJ into his arms and BJ returned the hug, tucking his chin on Hawk’s shoulder. “Don’t let me put a damper on the festivities. She’s gorgeous, really.” BJ pulled away from Hawk and walked over to Margaret. He kissed her forehead and his hand cupped Frances’s face. “I’ll see you back at the Swamp, alright? It’s colder out tonight so I’ll— I’ll get the stove going so it’s warm for her.” 

“We’ll be right behind you,” Margaret said. She shifted again and passed Frances over to Hawk so she could pull the clean clothes on that someone had brought her. “BJ?” She called right before BJ could pass through the doors. BJ turned around, his eyebrows raised. “Thank you for everything.” 

“It’s no problem, Margaret.” 

Margaret tried to stand up but her legs far too wobbly to actually use. She sank back onto the table. “You can steal Frances any time you want. I know it’s not the same as being home with Erin, but…” 

BJ smiled. “I might just take you up on that sometime. See you at home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr 
> 
> @im-writing-out-of-time for my writing channel and 
> 
> @peaceloveandjocularity for more M*A*S*H content!


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